


are your lights still on?

by hellagayhufflepunk



Series: would you be so kind [2]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Everything is Okay AU, F/F, Fluff, Gen, some angst because of who i am as a person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:28:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 40,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25446886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellagayhufflepunk/pseuds/hellagayhufflepunk
Summary: The prologue, if you will, to ‘there’s gotta be some butterflies somewhere’. The five years Max and Chloe spent apart. Only this time, Max stays in touch, Chloe doesn’t get expelled, Rachel doesn’t die, and things are a lot more okay. Things still aren’t perfect: high school is hard, long distance friendships are harder, and dealing with your emotions is nearly impossible. But, at the end of the day, they make it through.
Relationships: Maxine "Max" Caulfield/Chloe Price
Series: would you be so kind [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1843063
Comments: 9
Kudos: 29





	1. prologue: comfort came against my will (and every story must grow old)

**Author's Note:**

> this is the second part to 'there's gotta be some butterflies somewhere' so if you haven't read that i'd suggest doing so.
> 
> fic title is from 'bros' by wolf alice
> 
> chapter title from 'black flies' by ben howard

Photography has been Max’s thing for as long as she can remember. It seems like whenever she looks back on her life she’s always holding a camera of some kind. There’s no one moment where she remembers picking up a camera for the first time, or taking her first photo or developing her first batch of (probably poorly taken) pictures. 

It just seems to have  _ always _ been there giving her a sense of comfort and familiarity.

Same with Chloe. 

They met when Max was five and Chloe was six and they happened to share the same kindergarten class. Logically, Max hadn’t  _ always _ known Chloe. There was an entire five years where she didn’t. But looking back, all her earliest memories involved Chloe. All of her best memories, too.

Chloe and photographs. Photographs and Chloe. 

////

Almost every memory Max has involves Chloe in some way. Even Chloe isn’t there, she’s  _ there _ . 

Like when Max and her family went on a roadtrip to Iowa to visit some relatives she didn’t know she had when she was twelve, she spent the entire car ride texting Chloe. As often as possible Max would sneak away from her Great Aunt Tracy to make a call to Chloe. She would try not be jealous when Chloe sent Max a picture of hersefl cuddling with Bongo while Max had to endure listening to her uncle drone on about politics. 

Which makes the fact that they are going to different schools almost unbearable. Because they’ve always been at the same school. They’ve hung out at every recess and lunch break since they were in kindergarten, they’ve walked home from school together, they’ve even been in the same clubs. (Max hated science club almost as much as Chloe hated art club)

But now all that was no more. Chloe was going to Blackwell, an awesome place where only the smartest of the smart people get into, and Max was going to regular old Arcadia Bay High School.

Maybe it wouldn’t  _ completely _ suck. At least they’d still be in the same city. 

////

“We’re moving to Seattle.”

The words come out of her mom’s mouth and punch Max right in the gut. 

She can’t even formulate a response. A million questions raced through her mind- however one topped all the rest:

_ What will happen to me and Chloe? _

////

The rest of that day she spent meandering around like a zombie that didn’t know how to walk. Everything felt wrong; tainted. 

The sunshine felt bleak. 

////

Max usually told Chloe everything.

But, for some reason, Max couldn’t tell Chloe this. 

This super big, really huge thing that would change their lives forever. 

Which, now that she’s thinking about it instead of avoiding thinking about it, is probably why she didn’t want to tell Chloe. Things have been relatively the same between them for years. When they met they were thick as thieves within moments and nothing has really changed since then. If anything, they’ve just gotten closer. They’ve never even had a major fight. 

Now  _ everything _ is about to change. 

And Max had no idea how to tell Chloe about it.

////

Summer didn’t help the fact that Max had this massive secret looming over her. Because summer meant that she and Chloe spent practically every moment together. And that made it all the more difficult. 

It’s not like Max didn’t  _ want _ to tell Chloe. She did. All Max wants to be is honest with Chloe. But… Max didn’t know  _ how _ to tell Chloe. How  _ do _ you tell your best friend you’re moving away- possible  _ forever _ ? How do you break that news to them when they cried for  _ days _ when their cat died? 

“Uh, Earth to Max? You in there?” Chloe asked. 

Now would be as good a time as any to tell Chloe, Max thought. They were in public- at the new frozen yogurt place- so Chloe couldn’t cause  _ that _ much of a scene.... hopefully. Plus, everyone took bad news better when they could drown their sorrows in chocolate syrup and rainbow sprinkles. ...Right?

Max opened her mouth. 

… and nothing came out. 

“Max? You okay?” 

Chloe was looking at her with her big, kind eyes. Max never felt like more of a failure in her life. 

There would be another moment to tell Chloe. They should enjoy what time they have together. 

////

The thing, Max learns, about days where everything changes is that they start off like any other day.

In movies or TV shows you can usually tell when things are about to change. The camera angle shifts, there’s some dramatic music in the background, some piece of dialogue is off, or  _ something _ clues you in that things are about to change. Real life isn’t like that at all. There’s no soundtrack, no camera angles, not even any weird dialogue. You just have to deal with being in the dark. Constantly.

The day everything changes starts off just like so many others: Max walking to Chloe’s house, making pancakes with William, playing dress up, ‘cleaning out’ Chloe’s room but ending up getting distracted instead. They drew pictures, played pirates, beat high scores in video games, and pretended summer wasn’t coming to an end. 

All the while Max was waiting for a moment where she could tell Chloe that she was moving to Seattle. None of the moments felt  _ right _ . 

It was like they were living in a perfect little snowglobe. Everything was perfect and beautiful and telling Chloe would be the violent hand that shakes it all and turns everything into a flurry of a storm. 

Still, it was unfair to keep this secret from Chloe. 

Especially since Max was leaving in just three days. 

Chloe is jumping up and down, talking a mile a minute about how they’re going to build some hideout by the Lighthouse. Max looks at Chloe for a moment, doing what she had been doing from the moment her mom told her the news: memorizing every single thing she could about Chloe, about this house, about Arcadia. They way Chloe’s lips would curl into a mischievous smirk when she got an idea, the banister upstairs that was broken by Max when they were little, the way the entire town smells just faintly like fish. 

“Max?” Chloe asks, voice going from excited to gentle in two seconds flat. 

In an instant Chloe was wrapping her hands around Max, grounding her in a way she didn’t know she needed. 

Max took a deep breath. 

“I’m moving to Seattle.” The words tumbled out of her mouth and hung in the air like dirty laundry.

Chloe was looking at her instensly; her eyes were, for once, unreadable. 

Then, Chloe smiled. 

“In three days, right?” 

Well.  _ That _ wasn’t what Max was expecting. 

“What?” Max’s mouth hung open. “You  _ knew _ ? My parents said  _ I  _ should be the one to tell you.”

Chloe gave a lighthearted chuckle. “Maybe, but they still talk to  _ my  _ parents. And Mom and Dad aren’t that good at keeping quiet. I- I heard them talking.” She averted her eyes to the ground for a second.  _ God _ , Max’s heart aches. Chloe, bright, alive Chloe was just quietly living with the knowledge that her best friend was leaving in a few days. 

“Why did you pretend like you didn’t know?” The question was burning in Max’s mind. 

“Because I know you hate this kind of conversation.” Chloe replied instantly. It made Max’s heart flutter with… with  _ something _ that Chloe, in true Chloe fashion, was trying to protect Max.  _ God _ , Max was going to miss Chloe so much. “Hey, dorkmeister,” Chloe playfully punched Max in the arm, “it’s not the end of the world.”

(Okay, yeah, maybe it  _ wasn’t _ . But it sure felt like it)

Max looked up at Chloe. Chloe, who was all bright eyes and small smiles and  _ light _ . Chloe who had  _ always _ been there for Max. 

She ducked her head. “I’m so worried that I won’t be okay without you.” 

“Hey, stop that” Chloe said so gently yet so sincerely, “of course you’ll be okay.”

It wasn’t until Chloe said it that Max started to believe it. 

Chloe held Max’s hands again. “We’re Max and Chloe, remember? We’re always together even when we’re not.” 

“That’s true.” A smile crept it’s way onto Max’s face. 

“Cool,” Chloe smiled again, got up off the couch, and did a little dance over to the kitchen table, “Now let’s find something fun to do.” 

No sooner had Chloe started ruffling through the mess of papers on the table than Joyce walked in. 

Immediately Max could tell something was off. 

(Looking back, Max thinks this would be the part of the movie where the camera angle suddenly shifted)

Joyce’s face was wet with tears, there was an officer trailing behind her and William was nowhere to be found. 

(This would be when the sad music would start playing)

Max’s heart plummeted to the floor. 

Chloe ran to Max’s side, then to her Mom’s. Joyce put her hands on Chloe’s shoulders, talking quietly. Max couldn’t hear a word she was saying but she knew what was being said. 

_ William was dead.  _

Max backed up a few paces, hands covering her face. For a moment she looked at the kitchen table, still a mess from when they dug up the time capsule in the background just a few minutes ago. Just a few minutes ago they were laughing and giggling and reliving their dorky eight year old selves. 

Now William was dead. 

Max watched powerlessly as Chloe and Joyce sobbed in each other’s arms.


	2. chapter one: morning has turned into a twilight galaxy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aka: what do you do when everything falls to pieces?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from 'the arch' by benoit guivarch and orianne marsili

For the first time in her life Max couldn’t sleep. Despite it being nearly two in the morning she wasn’t tired. She  _ wanted _ to go to sleep but she  _ couldn’t _ . 

Because tomorrow would be her last day in Arcadia Bay for what was looking to be a very long time. And because tomorrow was the funeral of her best friend’s dad. 

Max stared up at the glow-in-the-dark stars she stuck to her ceiling four summers ago. To any other person they looked like a random jumble of nonsense placed haphazardly by careless nine year old hands. To Max, they followed a very concise pattern. The stars were arranged in the shapes of constellations she and Chloe made up when they were kids. Even though she carefully packed up all of her other belongings Max couldn’t bear to take down her stars. Maybe, in some corner of her mind, she was hoping that whoever moved into their house next would find the same comfort in them. 

The only thing that jarred Max out of whatever funk she was in was her phone chiming. 

Instantly she bolted up and grabbed her phone from where is charging on her desk. There was only one person in the entire world who would text her right now. 

////

**Chloe (2:42 AM):**

at the beach. come meet me?

**You (2:42 AM):**

on my way

////

This wasn’t the first time they’d snuck out to the beach in the middle of the night. Actually, they snuck out just a few weeks ago to watch the bioluminescent algae. Chloe spent the whole night talking Max’s ears off about how the algae glows and other bioluminescent creatures. That Chloe, talking animatedly and passionately, was  _ worlds _ away from the Chloe Max saw now. 

Because the Chloe Max saw now was so small and so broken and so  _ sad _ . 

Slowly, Max walked next to Chloe. She didn’t stir no matter how close Max got. With some hesitation, Max sat down next to Chloe. Chloe still did not move. 

For a long time they stared out at the water. 

For a long time Max ran through what to say in her head. 

_ I’m sorry ab _

_ This sucks _

_ Is there anyt _

Yeah… she couldn’t really think of anything to say. Which  _ sucked _ because Chloe always seemed to know what to say when Max was upset. But what do you say to someone whose dad just died and best friend is moving away  possibly forever ? 

So Max just stayed there with Chloe in silence. 

Eventually, Chloe leaned her head against Max’s shoulder and Max held Chloe’s hand and they stayed like that until the sun came up. 

(When Max grows older she realizes that sometimes just  _ being _ there is more than enough. Words are all fine and good. It’s just sometimes they aren’t what the person  _ needs _ . Sometimes, people just need you to  _ be _ there)

////

The funeral was about as awful as one could expect. It was a closed casket which caused Max to wonder just how  _ bad _ the wreck must have been if the funeral people thought his face too far gone to make presentable. Which then made Max think of how William must have suffered in the last minutes of his life. Which sent her into a whole other mess of thoughts of how he didn’t  _ deserve _ any of this. 

(Looking over at Chloe and Joyce, both of them hunched over with sadness, like the weight of it was crumpling their bodies from the top down made Max think that, yeah, Joyce and Chloe didn’t deserve any of this either)

////

They lingered in front of the grave for a long time. Max, her parents, Joyce, and Chloe were the only ones left. Though, Max’s dad gave her a look that said  _ ‘wrap this up’ _ because of course her parents couldn’t push their plans back a day. Of course their move to Seattle was more important to them than Chloe and Joyce and all of their grief. 

Max clenched her small hands into even tinier fists. Now was not the time and this was not the place to get angry. 

Chloe needed her. 

So she stood next to Chloe and looked over at her best friend and tried to push a goodbye past her lips but nothing would come up.

Everything Max thought of saying felt too empty; too contrived. 

She held onto Chloe’s hand instead. For the first time since the funeral started Chloe  _ looked _ at Max. Her eyes were so big and so sad. Chloe didn’t say anything and neither did Max but they did pull each other into the tightest hug they could manage. 

When Chloe pulled away Max wanted to tell her that there was a tape waiting for her in her room, a tape that would tell Chloe all the things Max couldn’t right now. Max wanted to tell Chloe she’d be okay, that Max will call her as soon as possible, that she was  _ sorry _ .

No words came out of her mouth. 

Max’s dad cleared his throat a little impatiently. 

Joyce gave Max a quick hug and Max gave Chloe another long one. 

Then Max got into her parents’ car. 

She stared out the back window. 

The last image she has of Chloe, for a long time, is her looking down at her father’s casket, a chasm of distance already forming between her and her mom.

////

_ Seattle sucks hard _ .

They just passed the ‘Welcome to Seattle’ sign yet Max had already concluded that Seattle sucks. Hard. 

It’s dark so Max can’t see much of the city. What she can see of it looks dumb. And pretentious. And nothing like a home. Soon they arrive at their new house. They pull into the driveway, get out of the car, and meander inside. 

Max has only ever seen pictures of it. Then it was furnished with the old family’s belongings. Now it’s half full of boxes, half empty. 

(Kinda how Max feels right now)

“Welcome home.” Her dad says. It feels like a slap in the face.

It doesn’t smell right. Instead of expensive scented candles and fresh cut grass it smelled like wet paint and mildew. 

Max doesn’t say anything. Her parents go upstairs but she doesn’t follow them. 

She goes to the backyard instead.

////

The first thing she notices is the swingset tucked into the corner. From it’s relative shininess and lack of wear it’s obvious that the thing is new. Not some leftover from whoever lived here before. 

Max let out an empty huff at the sight of it. Deep down, Max knows her parents are trying to make this new place feel like home- that they are trying to make things  _ easier _ for her. They knew how much she loved the swingset in Chloe’s backyard so it makes sense that they’d get a swingset for their new house. Problem is they are doing the exact opposite of helping. Because Chloe’s swing set wasn’t just a regular swing set. It was a one of a kind, built by William out of spare parts and using old tools. That swingset was a present for Chloe’s seventh birthday and it took him a whole week to build. He even took Chloe and Max to Home Depot to get some of the materials for it. Afterwards he took them out for ice cream at their favorite place, let them get two scoops and a waffle cone. It was one of Max’s favorite memories.

So yeah. That swingset wasn’t just a swingset. In a lot of ways it was like a childhood friend,too. 

The shiny piece of plastic and metal currently sitting in the backyard wasn’t a fit vessel for Captain Bluebeard and Long Max Silver. 

She walks up to the swingset anyways. All of a sudden she has an overwhelming urge to kick it, to  _ demolish _ it, to scream and thrash and just let it all out. 

But that wouldn’t  _ do _ anything. 

William was  _ gone _ , Chloe was in Arcadia and Max was stuck in Seattle. 

Everything was upside down and sideways and backwards and Max had no idea what to  _ do _ .

Her phone was still in her hand she realized suddenly. Like it had been the entire car ride up here. Hours in the car were spent agonizing over a single text to send. Hours that were wasted because Max couldn’t think of a  _ single _ thing to say. Right now she still couldn’t think of anything to say. She was ready to shove her phone in her pocket, go upstairs, and pretend like this house was a home. 

But then the image of Chloe, weighed down by grief and despair, flashed through her mind

(Sometimes- a lot of the times, Max would later learn- it doesn’t matter  _ how _ you start; it just matters that you  _ start _ )

And that’s exactly what Max does. She  _ starts _ . By calling Chloe. The phone didn’t even finish it’s first ring when Chloe picked up. 

_ “Max?” _ Chloe’s voice sounded relieved yet still heavy.

“Hey, Chloe. How ar-” Max bit her lip. The answer to that question was too obvious; too painful. “We, uh- we made it up to Seattle okay.” She says instead. 

_ “That’s good.” _ Chloe says almost automatically.  _ “Do- do you like it so far?” _

Max didn’t even have to lie to comfort Chloe. The truth was enough. “No.” Then, on a whim, she added: “The Space Needle is so pretentious.”

There was a chuckle on the other end. It was short and sounded a little forced but Max thought it was progress.  _ “Have you even  _ seen _ the Space Needle yet?” _

“No. But I just know it is. I mean, we get it, a really tall building. Big whoop. There’s a ton of those. The needle isn’t special.”

Another dry chuckle.  _ “Tell me about it.” _

And Max did. Tell her about it. She launched into quite an impressive monologue about how overhyped the Space Needle was. Once that train of thought was exhausted, she began talking about how she already knew everything she needed to know about Seattle from watching  _ Grey’s Anatomy _ with her parents. (“A lot of rain and a lot of attractive doctors.”) Then Max talked about the lack of nature trails and the light pollution and how it smelled like gasoline and urine. 

She talked until the sun came up and Chloe was yawning in her ear and her phone was dying.

_ “Thank you, Max.” _ Chloe said it so quietly Max almost missed it. 

“You’re welcome, Chloe.” She bit her lip. Sighed. “This sucks.” She admitted blowing out a breath and looking up at the breaking dawn. “Being apart. I- I’m sorry.”

_ “Hey,”  _ Chloe’s voice takes on a gentle edge,  _ “even if we’re apart we’ll always be Max and Chloe _ .”

“You listened to my tape?” It shouldn’t have surprised Max but it did.

_ “Yeah, I did.” _

Max smiled. She was a little apprehensive making the tape, feeling that it might be too little too late. But she was happy that it could provide Chloe even just a little comfort. 

_ “Hey, my phone is about to die and I think I should get some sleep. I’ll call you later?” _

“Of course. Sweet dreams, Chloe.”

_ “Goop.” _ Chloe said affectionately before hanging up. 

For the first time since William died, Max had the feeling that maybe, just  _ maybe, _ things were going to be okay. 


	3. chapter two: winter stole summer’s thrill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aka: max is settling in seattle without chloe; chloe is living in arcadia without max. neither one of them is okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from 'black flies' by ben howard

The thing that sucks the worst about your dad dying is the way people look at you. 

(Okay, there are  _ worse  _ things about your dad dying but this is certainly not a perk)

Chloe took a week off school and her mom took a week off work. They spent seven days avoiding. Avoiding each other and avoiding anything that reminded them of him and avoiding the hollowness inside themselves that just keeps growing. Avoiding avoiding avoiding.

Max called her at least once a day. For the first time in their friendship Chloe was the one that stayed quiet while Max talked her ear off. Everything from complaining about the rain to cursing out Ikea furniture. 

( _ “It’s not as easy as it looks, Chloe!” _

“Max, you just suck at building things.”

_ “Well not all of us can be good at everything!”  _

Something clanged in the background and Chloe heard Max mutter something that sounded like a mashup of ‘shit’ and ‘crap’) 

That week, however, had come to an end. Joyce was back at work and Chloe was back at school. If there’s one thing Chloe learned at Blackwell it’s that news travelled fast there. By now, there was probably a rumor that her dad’s death was the result of the mob taking him out for being unable to pay back his debts. Or something equally insane. Whatever. Not like she really cared what anyone there thought of her.

A lot of the times bad things happened with no explanation at all; no reasoning behind it. Life was just shitty sometimes. 

As soon as she got on campus everyone looked at her like she was a kicked, starving puppy. People that she hadn’t even seen before came up to her and said the stereotypical shit like  _ ‘I am so sorry for your loss’  _ and  _ ‘If you ever want to talk to someone, I’m here’ _ . A couple kids even gave her their phone numbers. Most people, thankfully, just kept their distance. It was weird being the center of attention instead of flying under the radar. 

Normally she got onto campus just in time for classes. But she opted out of that to avoid the awkward limbo she had going on with her mom. Instead she woke up early, took the bus, and now had an entire hour to kill before class. She figured she would find some secluded hallway and work on some homework. Before she could enter the building, someone called her name.

Chloe recognized him as Mikey. He and his friend Steph shared their mandatory art class together. (Which, Chloe didn’t know why she had to take an art class when she was at Blackwell for  _ science _ but whatever. She chose ceramics which was pretty cool so far).

They were nerdy but they were  _ real _ . So Chloe appreciated them. 

When Chloe walked over to their table it looked like they were in the middle of a Dungeons and Dragons campaign. Her heart twists in her chest. Max and her used to play that all the time. Though they didn’t have a designated Dungeon Master so it ended up being more like a game of pretend than an actual campaign. 

“Hey, Chloe.” Mikey says excitedly. “Want to join us? Elamon is about to go up the dreaded King Tigerth of The Forest People and he could really use some back up.” It’s cute how excited he is- he’s what Chloe imagined a little brother would be like.

“What Mikey means to say,” Steph says with a pointed look in Mikey’s direction, “is that he wasted all his best moves clearing out a treasure cove and is completely helpless now.” Steph replies. Mikey sticks his tongue out at her and Steph laughs. The way the talk with each other… it reminds her too much of her and Max. 

“Uh, I can’t. I- I uh got a lot of homework to catch up on.” It’s a lame excuse and all three of them know it. 

Steph looks at Chloe. It’s not the same pitiful look that other people have given her. If anything, it’s a look of curiosity. Like Chloe is a puzzle Steph can’t quite figure out. 

“Right.” The look Steph gave her dissolved into a kind of cocky smirk. “Well, if you ever feel like procrastinating you know where to find us. I’ll be here, beating Elamon’s ass into a Blood Elixir.”

Chloe gave an unsure nod. “Yeah…” Her eyes lingered on the table. Steph’s Dungeon Master’s folder was in front of her, several small figures dotted the table, and Mikey’s dice were neatly off to the side. Their game looked really fun. Plus she knew Steph was a really good Dungeons Master because that was, like, sixty percent of their conversations. 

“Actually, I think my homework can wait a bit longer. Elveron sounds like he could use my help.”

“It’s  _ Elamon _ . But thank you. I need all the help I can get right now.” 

The three shared a laugh. It was the first time Chloe really  _ laughed _ in weeks. 

And they shared a few more as the game progressed. This game might not have been as fun as the ones she and Max played when they were kids but it was up there.

////

Usually on Max’s birthday they had a sleepover, stayed up late watching movies and eating junk food, and Chloe would tell Max promptly at midnight happy birthday. Even school the next morning wouldn’t stop them. Tradition was tradition after all. 

This year they couldn’t do that. She still sent her a gift because Chloe couldn’t  _ not _ send Max a gift. It was small and stupid and Chloe hoped Max didn’t hate it.

The night of Max’s birthday, after she got home from shipping her gift at the post office, Chloe stayed up to watch  _ Blade Runner _ . It was her and Max’s favorite movie. For Chloe, seventy percent of why she liked the movie so much was because the first time she watched it, she watched it with Max. The way the other girl’s face lit up made Chloe fell in love with the movie more than the cheesy effects ever could. 

Chloe thought about calling Max. Telling her about the theories she had on the  _ Blade Runner _ . She didn’t though. She knew Max would be asleep by now. 

(It was real lonely, being so far apart)

////

One morning, while brushing her teeth, Chloe realized there were still four toothbrushes in the bathroom. The blue one was hers- blue had been her color ever since she was a kid- and the orange one was her mom’s. The red one had been her dad’s; the pink one, Max’s.

Neither Chloe or Joyce could bear to throw either of them out. 

In some small, stupid way it was like they were keeping them there. 

(All they were really doing was torturing themselves with ghosts)

Chloe wants to punch the mirror, if only to get out all of the hurt that is building up inside of her. She goes as far as to clench her fist and reel her hand back but then she hears her mom calling her name from down the stairs. 

_____

Max’s room felt  _ wrong _ .

That’s the only way she could think of to describe it. 

Back in Arcadia, her old room was small. Like a little hideaway. An escape from the world. Chloe’s room was bigger because it was  _ meant _ to hold the two of them. It was  _ made _ for the two of them. At least, that’s what it felt like. 

Now, her new room is almost the size of Chloe’s. Even with her new furniture Max feels like she’s drowning in all the empty space. It feels like this place is swallowing her whole. 

“Hurry up, Max! The bus leaves in five minutes and you don’t want to be late on your first day of school!” Her mom calls from down the stairs. 

With a huff, Max grabs her backpack- also new, as if her parents think they can bribe Max into liking this place- and makes her way downstairs. Her first day of school outfit is plain. Like all of her outfits, really. An old pair of blue jeans, and even older pair of converse, and a graphic tee that has a picture of a deer on it. Maybe, with some luck, no one will notice her and her day will pass without incident. 

(And maybe pigs will start flying)

“There you are. Did you eat breakfast?” Her mom greets, putting her brand new laptop into a very expensive messenger bag. 

Max shrugged, grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, and took a large bite. 

“Your dad and I work late tonight, but there’s plenty of food in the fridge.” Her mom gave her a kiss on the cheek and some of the lipstick left a stain. “I love you. Have a good day.”

“I love you too.”

Max hated how empty her own voice sounded.

////

Breakfast and the bus ride were underwhelming at best. 

Before, in Arcadia, William would drive Max and Chloe to the Two Whales and treat them to a pancake breakfast for the first day of school. Last year he and Joyce even let them have a cup of coffee. Then he would drive them to school, take a million pictures of them, and wish them well on their first day. 

That was thing about moving, Max thought. You don’t really realize what you’re leaving behind until you’ve already left. 

////

School itself wasn’t terrible. It wasn’t spectacular either. 

She doesn’t get lost, shoved into a trashcan, or spit on. She does end up eating lunch alone, late to her last class because she couldn’t figure out how to open her locker, and laughed at when she messed up her own name introducing herself to her classmates. 

At the end of the day she doesn’t have any new friends. But she doesn’t have any mortal enemies either. So, Max decides today counts as a victory.

When the final bell rings she doesn’t race to the bus like all the other kids do. Instead she heads to the school library. It’s open for a few hours after school and she could use the quiet after the bustle of today. Her house would have been quiet, too. But her house was also empty. 

The library would do.

Max grabbed a book at random off the shelf, sat down in one of the chairs, and read in between sending texts to Chloe. She tells Max about the two nerdy-yet-cool kids in her ceramics class. Max doesn’t tell her about how she ate lunch alone. 

////

Somewhere in the first few weeks Max settled into a kind of routine. After school she would hang out in the library for a few hours. Sometimes she would read, sometimes she would just text Chloe, and sometimes she’d even do homework. Then she’d walk the three miles back to her house and eat dinner. Occasionally her parents would be there but most of the time they weren’t. Either way Max was fine with it. Once dinner was done with she’d go up to her room and skype with Chloe for a while. Just before bed, Max would pull out her journal.

Journaling had been something that Max had always done. Never having been the most focused or grounded kid, it was a good way for her to keep track of her thoughts and ideas and what she did a particular day. However, it was always something that she did infrequently. There might be weeks or even months between her journal entries. Though, when she moved to Seattle, her journaling became something she did almost every day. Sometimes her entries were only a paragraph and some mindless doodles. Others were pages and pages and pages of introspective thoughts. It was something to keep her sane. A moment of quiet in a chaotic world. 

There was no  _ pressure _ when she journaled. 

Every day, everyone had these expectations of her. With everyone, she had to be  _ someone _ . It was exhausting. With her parents she had to be the docile daughter because ‘this move was hard for us too’; at school she had to be the quiet kid; and with Chloe…

God, with Chloe she had to be this strong, stoic friend. Because Chloe lost  _ so much _ and it’s not like Max could unload all her feelings on Chloe when the girl was still so vulnerable. That would just be so unfair to Chloe. She’s already going through so much. She doesn’t need her own loss thrown back in her face like that. 

With more force than necessary she snaps her journal shut. For a minute she debates throwing it against the wall with all the rage her thirteen year old body can muster. But she’s afraid her parents will hear the thud of her journal against the wall and come up to ask her what’s wrong. So she settles for tossing it on the floor instead. 

(It doesn’t do much to quell her bubbling anger)

////

They’d only been in Seattle a few weeks by the time Max’s birthday rolled around. 

Honestly, in all the chaos of the move, of William’s death, of everything, Max thought Chloe would forget about her birthday. She’s never forgotten it before- ever- but given the circumstances, Max figured Chloe would forget. Or at least not up to celebrating anything. 

Maybe she wasn’t giving Chloe enough credit. Because on the morning of September 21st Max woke up to a text from Chloe. 

**Chloe (12:00 AM):**

_ happy birthday mad max _

Those four words instantly made Max’s day. She stared at those four words until her eyes started to hurt, smiling like an idiot the whole time. 

**You (9:44 AM):**

thank you you goop

**Chloe (9:45 AM):**

_ takes one to know one _

**You (9:46 AM):**

touche

They texted for a while after that. Chloe was procrastinating on homework and Max was procrastinating on faking a smile around her parents. 

Max was only fourteen but she already felt so old. 

She wondered if it was always going to feel like this from now on: old and weathered and like her soul was too big for her small frame. 

////

It wasn’t a bad birthday but it was the worst one Max ever had. Which, to be fair, sounds confusing. Relatively speaking it was a good day: there was cake and presents and even some laughter. But it was the worst one because Chloe was in Arcadia and Max was in Seattle and that just felt  _ wrong _ . 

(Like everything, these days)

////

Max wished for things to go back to the way they were. For William to be alive, for her to be back in Arcadia with Chloe, for her life to be  _ hers _ again. 

////

There were three boxes that Max had yet to unpack. In those boxes were all the photographs she had taken in her thirteen years of living in Arcadia Bay. Some of them were in photo albums; most were not. She had shoved the boxes in her closet, unsure of what exactly she wanted to do with them. Some of them were pictures of her and Chloe and William. Some were of just her and Chloe. 

With trembling hands Max reached for one of the boxes. Her fingertips barely touched the rough cardboard before she recoiled as if the box had burned her. 

She ended up shoving the boxes deeper in her closet; ended up trying to forget all the painfully happy memories they brought her. 

She all but stormed out of her room, out of the house, and into the backyard because she had to be  _ anywhere _ but there right now but she also didn’t want to go too far because she knew she’d end up as lost as she felt. 

So she settled for sitting on the swingset, the brand new thing creaking beneath her slight frame, the metal chilly from the autumn air. Her old sneakers got scuffed in the dirt. 

Max was feeling a lot of… it.

To be honest she’s not sure how to describe  _ it _ . It’s like the waves she and Chloe would get caught in when they were little kids playing at the beach. All sudden and fast and powerful. Enough to knock her off her feet if she hadn’t been sitting in the too-shiny swing set her parents had bought for her. 

It’s like the dam she had built inside herself to keep every emotion in finally broke. All at once, every emotion she had pent up was released with a violent crash. 

She’s not sure how long she sat there, on that swingset, crying her eyes out. She stopped crying not because she ran out of tears but because her mom came into the backyard to check on her. Max forced herself to hold her tears in long enough to assuage her mom’s worries.

This must be what a Jack-o-Lantern felt like. Guts scooped out, fake smile carved into its face, seemingly full of light but in reality just empty. 

(Max decided she was never carving another pumpkin ever again)

////

The best birthday gift Max ever got arrived a week after her actual birthday.

The gift itself wasn’t anything special but rather the thought behind it. 

Wrapped in an  _ Arcadia Bay Daily _ that was two months old was seven packs of Max’s favorite bubblegum- a brand that she couldn’t find anywhere in Seattle- and a few polished drawings of SuperMax and Dr. Chloenstein. 

There was a birthday card- a folded piece of construction paper written on in glitter pen- with the neatest script Max had ever seen Chloe use. 

The gift was so special because Max vaguely remembers a saying some throwaway comment weeks ago how Seattle sucked for many reasons, one of which was she couldn’t find her favorite chewing gum. Chloe  _ remembered _ this tiny detail. This made Max’s heart soar. 

Chloe’s drawings had always been good. Imaginative, brilliant, unique. Just like Chloe herself. Same goes with the drawings Max now holds in her hands. A lot of the comics of their superhero alter egos were little more than scribbles. These looked like actual comic book art: thick line art, bold colors, cool perspectives. Something that obviously took a lot of time to do. 

In the corner of the final page was a little note. Scribbled in Chloe’s usually messy writing was ‘ _ To the one and only Super Max.’  _

Max calls Chloe not long after.

Things were hard between them- most of the time, things felt  _ impossible _ \- but it was the little things like this that reminded Max that they were going to be okay. 

(They had to be)

////

Using the stationary she got for her birthday, Max writes a letter to Chloe. She tried to plan out the letter on scraps of paper. Tried to make herself sound eloquent. Instead it came off as pretentious and jumbled. She was just about to give up when she decided to just fuck it. Max pulled out her pen and started writing whatever came into her head. She didn’t even worry too much about penmanship. She just wrote and wrote and wrote until she literally couldn’t think of anything more to say. 

Before she could think about it too much, Max sent the letter.


	4. chapter three: i got sunburned waiting for the jets to land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aka: things begin to change. for better and for worse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from 'piano fire' by sparklehorse

October is Max’s favorite month. 

This is Chloe’s first thought when she wakes up on October first. 

Her second thought is something along the lines of ‘I really need a haircut’. Though, after a month of not brushing or washing it was less hair and more one giant rat’s nest. 

For once she woke up kind of early for school. There was a pair of scissors on her desk. Math has always been one of Chloe’s strong suits and this was a very easy equation. 

////

“Your hair.” Joyce says when Chloe comes down. She’s trying to be enthusiastic, Chloe knows this, but it’s still hard for Joyce to feel anything other than sad. Especially when she spends forty plus hours a week at the diner pretending to be happy. Or, at least okay. Happy at this point was asking for too much. 

“Thanks mom.” Chloe says. 

They’re both trying. It’s just so  _ hard _ . 

////

Chloe has gotten used to being alone. 

Well, not alone alone. She was pretty much constantly surrounded by people. The irony was that none of these people were the one she wanted. All she wanted was Max, here by her side. So they could hang out in her room again and play pirates even though they had probably outgrown that. 

She doesn’t tell anyone this. No one except her journal. And it’s weird because she was never much for journaling. She knew Max did it occasionally but she never really did it herself. Though once Max left Chloe started telling her journal all the things she couldn’t tell anybody else. 

Like the dreams she has of her dad; how she wakes up with the taste of blood in her mouth. Or how she hears her mom crying when she thinks Chloe is asleep. And the pain she feels.  _ God _ the pain she feels. In her spine, the soles of her feet, her teeth, her ribcage. It’s all consuming. There’s not one origin point or one place where it hurts more than the others. It just  _ hurts _ .

It’s not like she can tell Max about it. About the pain and missing her dad and missing Max and feeling hollow. Because Max, despite saying how she’s there for Chloe- will  _ always _ be there for Chloe- is hurting too. Chloe knows this even though Max won’t say it. Because they may be apart now but Chloe still knows Max. Knows that she’s suffering in her silence. That she’s grieving the loss of William just as Chloe was. 

So she writes down all the things she can’t say out loud instead. 

////

October is, like, the biggest month of the year for parties. Or, at least this is what Justin- Chloe’s locker mate- tells her. Justin isn’t a bad guy, Chloe decided. He may not get the best grades and he always reeks of weed, but he’s still smart and creative and interesting. Above all he’s  _ honest _ . Which is a rare trait to find in anyone. Much less a student of Blackhell Academy.

So they talk. They kinda-sorta become friends. 

Which is how Justin ends up inviting Chloe to a house party hosted by a student that Chloe has honestly never heard of. Still, a party is a party. Chloe likes alcohol- or at least Chloe likes the stuff that her mom keeps hidden in her wine cabinet. 

And she figures with all the shit she’s endured in the last two months she deserves to let loose. 

////

(Chloe doesn’t tell Max she was invited to the party. 

She’s not sure why)

/////

The party is loud. 

_ Too _ loud. 

This doesn’t seem to deter Justin for he presses on into the house. So Chloe follows him. A can of beer is shoved into her hand and she takes it only to dump it into the pot of an unsuspecting houseplant. 

“Whoa, Price Check. Chillax, it’s not going to kill you.” Justin says upon seeing what Chloe did. 

Chloe just shrugged and tossed her can in a bin she hoped was recycling. 

Alcohol was something Chloe was familiar with. Wine tastings with Max and taking sips of her dad’s beer when they thought her mom wasn’t looking was an often enough occurrence. Neither of these things tasted particularly  _ good _ to Chloe, however they made her feel light and tipsy and made the world look a little brighter. 

She hadn’t had any alcohol since before her dad died. Actually, the last time she had it was that wine tasting session with Max- the one where they spilled wine all over the carpet and spent hours trying to scrub it out. Despite the lecture she got from her mom, that afternoon was one of the best days Chloe can remember. 

Like everything in her life these days, alcohol felt like something she could only do with Max around. The lightheadedness, the buzz, the good feelings she knows that alcohol brought on was temping;  _ very _ tempting. Just… every time she looked at the stuff her gut twisted painfully and it felt like all the air rushed out of her lungs. 

Chloe still stayed. Still watched people get drunk. 

////

Once the party is in full swing a few hours later Rachel Amber shows up. A momentary hush falls over the room even though the music still blares in the speakers. Chloe knows who Rachel is despite having never met her. Rachel is as integral to Blackwell, it seems, as the mascot itself. Everyone knows Rachel, has heard stories about her exploits, has been helped by her in some form or another. She’s only been at Blackwell for a few months and yet she’s already got a reputation. Chloe supposes she’s grateful this. The more attention that was on Rachel meant that there was less attention on Chloe. 

For her part, Rachel soaks up this attention with the grace of someone raised in a Royal family. That’s the only comparison Chloe can make. The girl waves and greets the people immediately by the door, saying a compliment that Chloe cannot hear from across the room. A few moments later, when everyone gets their barings back, the party resumes. Though, the energy has shifted. Everything feels so much more alive now. 

Magnetic.

That’s the word that comes to mind when thinking of Rachel Amber. 

Chloe stares at Rachel; watches as she makes her way around the room. Graciously, the girl takes a beer and she chugs it in a way that is eloquent. Chloe wasn’t aware a person could chug a beer eloquently but she supposes if anyone was capable of such a feat it was Rachel. 

Their eyes met. For half a second. But it felt like an eternity. Half a second and it felt like Rachel was looking into Chloe’s soul.

Chloe turns her back and leaves. 

////

She hasn’t had a sip of alcohol yet she feels like shit. Maybe that fact shouldn’t be as surprising as it was. She hasn’t felt good in months; she starting to forget what good feels like. And it’s not like she was expecting the party to fix everything. Or,  _ anything _ really. She just expected to feel different from this. Whatever  _ this _ was. All tight and heavy and sad. 

(Like her insides were a coil that just kept being stretched and stretched)

(At what point does it snap? At what point does it end?)

Without even really thinking about it she calls Max. Tries to call Max. Because of course Max isn’t picking up right now. It’s nearly three am. Every sane person is asleep. 

_ “Hey, you’ve reached Max. I can’t come to the phone right now. Leave a message.”  _

She nearly slammed her phone into the pavement for no good reason. 

She doesn’t leave a voicemail. Instead she opts for wandering the streets until sunrise. 

////

As the sun is rising Chloe makes it home. Honestly, she would have stayed out longer but her mom didn’t know she went out last night and Chloe would really rather not have her mom knowing she snuck out. 

For a second she considers climbing up the wall and sneaking through her window. Her and Max used to dare each other to climb out the window when they were little kids. Really, the day her dad died they were daring each other. But that seems like a lifetime ago now (and in some sense, it  _ is _ ) so Chloe counts it as such. They were never brave enough to do it and Chloe felt like she had something to prove. At the very least it would make for an interesting challenge. However, now, time was of the essence. So she unlocked the door using the spare key they kept under the mat and took the stairs two at a time.

Barely she managed to scramble under her covers in time for her mom to peek into her room before she left for work. 

////

Morning, for Chloe, begins a few hours later with her dry heaving into the toilet. 

There’s nothing the heave up, of course. There’s no alcohol to purge out of her system. 

Once she’s done vomiting nothing into the toilet she checks her phone. Which is conveniently in her pocket. 

Justin texted her while drunk or high or both. The gist being that he was making sure she got home okay. Her mom sent a simple message saying that she might work late at the diner (again) so Chloe will probably be on her own for dinner. Max texted her something about cutting off all her hair. 

Chloe tries calling Max again. This time Max picks up. 

_ “Hey, Chloe. You okay? You called me at, like, three in the morning.” _

“Oh, yeah,” Chloe pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache coming on, “I just- I was just working on some homework and wanted some company I guess.” 

_ God why was she such a fucking hypocrite? _ She hates it when people lie to her yet here she was, doing just that to her best friend in the whole world. 

The ache in her chest grows and grows and grows. 

////

Halloween used to be  _ their  _ holiday: an entire day that felt like it was just for them. For weeks beforehand Max and Chloe would plan out their costumes and a very patient Joyce and William would help them craft it. Last year, when most of their peers felt like they had to grow out of trick-or-treating, Max and her went as penguins. Chloe still has that costume stuffed in the corner of her closet.

This year, Chloe was invited to go trick-or-treating with Steph and Mikey. The pair probably overheard Chloe’s (one of many) conversation with Max about how they were both bummed that they couldn’t be together this Halloween. 

Honestly, Chloe didn’t think Steph or Mikey planned on going trick-or-treating before hand. They were nerdy, sure, but they seemed like the kids that grew out of trick-or-treating years ago and had graduated to scary movie marathons. Still, Chloe was grateful for the gesture even if she didn’t take it. 

Justin invited her to a houseparty. One with lots and lots of booze. She wasn’t sure if she was going to actually drink at this party- alcohol still felt like something she could only do with Max around- but just the thought of having something to drown out her worries was comforting. 

////

Max skyped her the night of the party- which happened to be Halloween night. 

_ “I miss you.” _ Are the first words out of Max’s mouth. 

“Woah, goop alert.” Chloe tries to say nonchalantly as she sits down at her desk. Her heart hurts too much to put too much effort into any sort of facade, though. “I- I miss you too.” Chloe replies. The weight in her chest just grows heavier. 

_ “I just wanted to go trick or treating with you. It’s stupid though, right? We’re not little kids anymore.”  _ Max sighs. 

“It’s not stupid.” Max gives her a look. “It’s  _ not _ . I- I just want everything to go back to the way they were. I want you here and I want my dad to still be alive and I just want everything to be  _ okay _ again.”

Max’s eyes well with tears. No words leave her lips. 

Neither one of them has ever been any good at saying the right thing at the right time. 

Chloe shuts her laptop not long after that. 

////

The party wasn’t all that fun. 

Max’s face, the way her eyes welled with tears, her  _ ‘I miss you’  _ played on a loop in Chloe’s mind. 

Not even the constant shoving of drinks into her hands could interrupt the loop. Chloe took these drinks, dumped most of them down the sink or in houseplants. Except for one that smelled more like syrup than it did alcohol. It tasted like gasoline but Chloe sipped at it anyways. After awhile she managed to get buzzed. Her head ended up feeling heavy and slow which she figures is a nice change of pace from her heart feeling heavy and slow.

(She can’t stop thinking about Max)

_ (ImissyouImissyouImissyouImissyouImissyouImissyou) _

////

Over the next few months Chloe gets invited to more parties. She graduates from getting a little buzzed to getting absolutely wasted. 

Her first hangover happens after her third party- just a week before Thanksgiving break- and she feels like she might die.

(A part of her hopes she does.

At least that way she’d get to see her dad again)

////

Granted, not every time she goes out she goes to a party.

Sometimes she goes over to Steph’s house. Which, she always calls Steph’s and Mikey’s since Mikey is never anywhere without Steph. Her house, included. The guest room at Steph’s house is even dubbed ‘Mikey’s room’ because the boy spends so much time there. ‘

(It kind of hurts, how much Steph and Mikey remind Chloe of her and Max)

They play Dungeons and Dragons, watch movies, play video games. A lot of the time they actually do homework together. They’ll sit around Steph’s basement- Steph sprawled on the ancient couch, Mikey sunken into one of the bean bags, and Chloe slouched against the couch- in complete silence. Mikey and Steph often focused on one of the art projects while Chloe scribbles out solutions to math problems. 

It’s not as comfortable as when she did her homework with Max but at least this way she’s not alone. 

Not completely, at least. 

(She just really, really misses Max)

////

It doesn’t take long for Chloe to tell Max about the parties she goes to.

It’s kind of hard to keep a secret when she calls Max drunk off her ass one night. It’s the first time she’s properly drunk and it’s the fourth party she’s at. Today is the second day of her thanksgiving break while it’s Max’s third. She’s in the backyard of some rich kid’s house, sitting on a neglected swing set, and thinking about Max and the stars and Max’s freckles. 

( _ “Do you ever wonder if the stars get lonely?” _

_ “Chloe?” _

_ “I mean, there’s so many of them. But they’re all so far apart and far away. We watch them all the time and wonder if anyone is there. Do you-”, Chloe hiccups, “Do you think they ever wonder the same thing? Do you think they watch us from a billion miles away and wonder if they’re all alone too?”) _

Yeah… while it was one of her more poetic moments it also wasn’t one of her brightest. Because Max knowing about her partying means Max worrying about her partying. Which is like having a second mom. Max is worried about Chloe even if she won’t directly say it. Chloe can tell the other girl is worried from the way Max calls her even more often now, bites her lip when Chloe tells her she’s on her way to another party. 

Joyce worries about Chloe too. Not quite as outwardly as Max. Joyce had never been one to express her emotions as plainly as Chloe or William or Max. Maybe, Chloe thinks, that’s why she and her mom weren’t the closet. They were just too different.

(Now, though, all they had was each other)

Joyce knew. Chloe wasn’t great at keeping secrets so she had noticed nights when Chloe’s bed was empty or smelled the alcohol on Chloe’s clothes. Maybe if Joyce wasn’t working seven days a week just to keep them afloat Chloe would have gotten a stern talking too. Grounded, even. But Joyce is constantly exhausted. Not to mention still grieving the loss of her husband. 

Chloe feels guilty for partying; for making things harder on her mom. 

She wants to be better; she’s just not sure how to go about it.

////

Chloe dreams every night. 

This is not new.

For as long as she can remember, she’s had dreams. Nothing ever particularly cool or prophetic. Just regular dreams. Like showing up to school in her underwear, running alone at night, and other things like that. 

When her dad died everything changed so it’s no wonder her dreams changed too. 

They went from being slightly weird to pretty disturbing. 

Instead of leaving her backpack in the fridge she sees her dad with half his face melted off. 

(At least she can see him this way)

////

Chloe doesn’t sleep well. But she does sleep. And with the sleep comes the dreams. Well, nightmares, really. 

Sometimes her dad talks to her. Most of the time he doesn’t. 

She always wakes up screaming.

In the end she’d choose to see his face in a nightmare over a peaceful night’s sleep.

(She misses him so much)

_____

October is her favorite month. 

Everything about it is amazing: the weather, the way the leaves change color, the wardrobe she now gets to wear, the scary movies. Just… all of it was amazing. 

Or it used to be.

Without Chloe everything just felt so… empty. Pointless, even. 

They texted and skyped and called each other every day but it wasn’t the  _ same _ . Max couldn’t play video games with Chloe or watch  _ The Adventures of Hot Dawg Man _ or draw comics with her. They couldn’t hang out at the beach or ride their bikes through the neighborhoods or spend entire days marathoning movies. 

It sucked. A lot. 

To top it all off Chloe seemed to be doing great without her. All the time Chloe was going to parties, or chilling with her new friends, 

Max wasn’t doing any of that stuff. 

In fact, she was doing the opposite: holing herself up in her room, ignoring everyone, only talking to Chloe. 

////

Halloween was spent handing out candy to strange kids in a neighborhood that still didn’t feel like home. 

It was the worst Halloween Max has ever had. 

////

Someone thought it would be hilarious to stick a wad of gum in her hair. At least it was during the final period of the day so she was able to get home relatively soon. She spent hours trying to get it out- all the old tricks of using peanut butter, olive oil, even ice. None of these so-called remedies were working. 

Finally she resorted to just using scissors. 

Her hair had always been long. Max never had any desire for short hair. Sure, long hair was inconvenient at times, and yeah most of the time Max’s hair was in a pony tail specifically so she didn’t have to deal with it, but she never wanted to cut it. Not that she was particularly attached to her long hair the way every other girl her age seemed to be. With one swift motion she chopped the gum from her hair. The chunk of hair fell to the floor very anti-climatic like. 

Now, with the gum gone, her hair looked how she felt. A huge chunk missing, rough, ugly and not in a poetic way 

The rest of her evening was spent trying to cut her hair in a way that looked more even.

////

Chloe skyped her in the middle of her cutting her hair. 

_ “Uh, whatcha doing there, Max?” _

“Cutting my hair.”

_ “I can see that… why, though?” _

Max almost told Chloe about the kid that stuck a wad of gum in her hair. Almost. But she didn’t want to worry Chloe. Telling Chloe would just get her riled up, give her anger than she had no outlet for. Besides, Max was fine. A bit embarrassed, but still fine. 

“I was just tired of it being long.” Max lied.

Chloe looked like she didn’t quite believe her. Max was glad Chloe didn’t press the issue. 

////

Thanksgiving break rolled around. 

Which was nice because it meant a week of sleeping in. But also sucked because it meant a week of nothing to do. 

Chloe kept her company as much as she could- between parties and all the homework her teachers assigned her the girl wasn’t left with a whole lot of free time. 

Boredom was already getting to Max two days into her vacation so, for the first time since coming to Seattle, she grabbed her camera, hopped on the bus, and let it take her to the edge of the city. Max takes her camera everywhere she goes even though most of the time she can’t find the energy to take pictures. In the two months since she’s been in Seattle she’s taken maybe six photos. And that was on the more generous side of the estimate. 

Taking photos used to be something she did everyday. She used to take walks with the sole purpose of finding something to take a picture of. There were at least three big boxes in the garage full of photos Max had taken. That wasn’t even counting the two boxes in her room or the collection of albums stuffed in her closet. 

Maybe today she’ll find some inspiration. 

////

She ends up at a park. It’s old and rusty, no kids in sight. A merry-go-round sits abandoned a few yards away. 

The park reminds her of the one she and Chloe used to go to all the time when they were kids. Except this one is emptier. Not just because it lacks children but because it lacks that sense of home. 

For the first time in weeks Max takes a photo. Then she takes a few steps to the side and takes another. Usually, since she has a polaroid camera and film isn’t cheap, she takes her time crafting a shot. Any shot could take anywhere from several seconds to several minutes to get right. 

Something about this place makes something inside Max twist. Like if she takes too long the place will disappear right before her yes. Which, she supposes, is exactly what childhood is like. 

By the time she leaves the park she ended up taking over twenty photos. 

////

When she gets home she lays the photos out on her desk, carefully labeling each one with the date and location- just as she does with all her photos. On a few she writes a little note. These notes range from a word that describes what she was feeling when she took the photo to something that’s not even related to the subject she shot. 

She doesn’t name all her photos. Only a select few get that luxury. A lot of the times she won’t name her photos until weeks, months, years after she first took them. 

None of these photos get named. Yet. 

One gets hung up on the little gallery in her room. The rest were placed in one of the many containers of photos in her dresser. 

Satisfied, Max lays back on her bed. She admires her little gallery- something that she doesn’t do all that much- since most of the time she looks at her photos she’s critiquing them. Finding ways to make them better. Seeing things she could (should) have done different. 

The photos that she never really had any critiques for were the ones she took of Chloe and William. Most of those were tucked away, too painful to look at right now. 

Suddenly, Max had the perfect idea for a Christmas present for both Joyce and Chloe. 

She didn’t waste any time getting to work.

////

Max raced down to the garage. Ripped open the boxes that had carefully taped shut months ago. 

These photos were a mix of ones she took and ones her parents did. Polaroids, standard 4x6’s, even a few 8x10’s. A couple were framed. Most weren’t. 

They weren’t in any kind of chronological order either. Just a jumbled mess that Max had to sort through. She felt like a detective on one of those over dramatic shows, pictures sprawled out in front of her, dust in her hair, a crazed yet determined expression on her face.

////

Eventually, after hours of sorting, Max pulled a few dozen pictures from the boxes. She wasn’t sure if she was going to use all of them but they were a good start. 

Max knew most of the best pictures of Chloe and William were in the boxes in her closet. Maybe that’s why she kept them so close. 

Sooner or later she would have to delve into their contents.

Today was not that day. 

////

That day came when Chloe called her in the middle of the night, obviously drunk, talking about loneliness and stars. 

There’s nothing Max can say that will comfort Chloe so she just listens instead. 

_ “The stars are so old, you know? They’ve probably seen so many people die. Do you think they’re sad, like us?” _

“Oh, Chloe,” Max whispers, heart breaking all over again.

Chloe hangs up after a long stretch of silence. It was nice, just listening to Chloe breath. She imagined the girl looking up at the stars, looking at the constellations they made when they were little and couldn’t remember the names of the actual constellations their teacher tried to show them.

////

Max ended up falling asleep only to have a nightmare. 

It’s not the first nightmare she’s had. Actually, she’s had more in the last few months of living in Seattle than she’s ever had in her whole life. 

This one, though, is one of the more disturbing. 

She and Chloe are sitting on a swing set. The one William made for them but they are not in Chloe’s backyard. It’s sunny and warm and for a moment, Max thinks this is a dream. Then there’s a flash like a camera and Chloe looks at her. Her eyes are cold and dark, just like the sky around them. 

“Why did you leave me alone, Max?” Chloe says in a voice that doesn’t exactly sound like hers. “Don’t you love me Max?”

There’s an intense heat and everything around them begins being bathed in a cold, white light. It feels like the stars are falling down around them. 

Max wakes up in a cold sweat. 

She can’t breathe right for a while. Her heart is beating too loudly in her chest. 

Without thinking it about it much she reaches into her closet with shaking hands, pulls out the boxes of photos that she hasn’t looked at in months but thought about everyday, and begins looking through them one by one.

They calm her down more than she expects them to. They remind her that her nightmare was just that: a nightmare. That Chloe wasn’t cold and dark but rather warm and full of light. That she may be lonely but she wasn’t alone. So many people loved her. 

(Max included)

////

Looking at those photos was like reliving the best parts of her childhood. 

All the sleepovers, Halloween costumes, the mornings spent at the diner. All the movie marathons, comic books they made, the video games they played. It was all right there; all so close yet so far away. 

Seeing these photos again made Max realize just how much she missed William. Made her realize just how much they all lost that day. 

Chloe didn’t just lose her dad, Joyce didn’t just lose her husband, and Max didn’t just lose one of the best men she’d ever known. They lost someone who could make them all laugh no matter what. They lost someone who they could tell anything too They lost someone who made everyone and anyone smile. They lost someone who helped others as often and as much as he could. They lost someone who nursed broken birds back to health- even if it meant he’d be late for work. They lost someone who made the best breakfasts in the entire world. 

Max never really allowed herself to mourn over William. She felt like she didn’t have any  _ right _ to. William wasn’t her dad. Even if she was closer with him than her own parents it felt…  _ wrong _ to cry over him. Like was intruding somewhere she didn’t belong. 

Now, over two months after William died, Max finally allowed herself to grieve. To really feel everything she lost that day. And damn does she feel it. 

To be honest she’s not sure how to describe  _ it _ . It’s like the waves she and Chloe would get caught in when they were little kids playing at the beach. All sudden and fast and powerful. Enough to knock her off her feet if she hadn’t been sitting in the too-shiny swing set her parents had bought for her. 

It’s like the dam she had built inside herself to keep every emotion in finally broke. All at once, every emotion she had pent up was released with a violent crash. 

She’s not sure how long she sat there, alone in her room, crying her eyes out. 

By the end she didn’t feel good. Or even  _ better _ .

All she felt was hollow. Emptied out. 

(God, how are they ever going to get through this?)


	5. chapter four: we’ll cast some light and you’ll be alright (for now)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aka: maybe things will be okay after all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is from 'crosses' by jose gonzalez

The first day of December happens to be the first time Chloe has a cigarette. 

For once she’s not at a party or at Steph and Mikey’s and she’s home alone because her mom is at work (where she always seems to be these days). Chloe finished her math homework hours ago and now she has nothing to do. Well, there is a biology test she should study for but her textbook was buried under god knows what so that was a no-go. 

She felt on edge. A little anxious. 

This was a feeling, she was discovering, she was beginning to have when she went too long between parties. It’s been over two weeks since her last party which, to be honest, wasn’t that much time at all. But apparently Chloe’s body and brain were becoming too accustomed to having alcohol in them. 

There wasn’t any alcohol in the house that Chloe could swipe. Other than a few beers in the fridge- that her mom would  _ definitely  _ notice missing- the Price house was devoid of alcohol. 

Still, Chloe couldn’t get rid of the anxiousness ebbing in her body. 

An idea crossed her mind that was probably a terrible one. 

Her mom kept spare packs of cigarettes stashed throughout the house. She’s been trying to quit smoking for years but when William died she gave up and started smoking more than Chloe had ever seen her. 

Chloe slunk out of her bed and made her way downstairs to the kitchen. Underneath the sink, next to the cleaning supplies, was a pack of cigarettes almost as old as Chloe herself. It was gross but Chloe was desperate. After rummaging around in the junk jar for a lighter Chloe stepped outside and went to the corner of the backyard her mom always used. 

Lighting it was awkward and actually smoking it was even more so. It took Chloe a few failed attempts to really get the hang of it. The smoke filled up her lungs in the same way alcohol filled up her chest. 

As she was smoking she thought of Max and how disappointed the girl would be to know what Chloe was doing. 

She kept smoking anyway. 

////

Turns out buying cigarettes is way easier than Chloe thought it would be. 

Justin knows someone who knows someone who sells cigarettes on Blackwell campus. They cost ten bucks a pack but it’s better than trying to get them from the corner store with a fake ID. The guy Justin knows actually gives Chloe’s first pack for free. 

So she smokes now. And goes to parties. 

She’s basically turning into the person she promised she’d never become. 

(Oh well. She’s disappointed everyone else in her life. Might as well disappoint herself too)

////

This is the first year in Chloe’s life that they don’t have a christmas tree. 

William would drive them up to a small little tree farm in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere that had really amazing trees and even better cocoa where he would spend literal hours picking out a tree.

“We have to get the right one. If you don’t have a good tree then you’re not going to have a good Christmas. That’s what my dad always told me,” is what Willima would tell Chloe when she was getting a little impatient.

“Really? Grandpa said that?” 

William would scratch his chin in a comically funny kind of way. “Well, he was usually a bit drunk. But I still think it’s good advice.”

Then Chloe would help her dad tie it onto the roof of their car and they’d drive back singing along to her mom’s favorite holiday music CD. No matter what time is was when they got back home they would pull out the box of ornaments, lights, and tinsel and decorate the tree. Sometimes Max would come over and help. Her family had a fake tree they’ve had since forever and Max had always liked the smell of real trees. 

This year William was dead and their car totaled in some junk yard, her mom’s favorite CD shattered just like the windshield was. Max was hundreds of miles away and Chloe was really craving a cigarette.

A lot has changed. 

Too much, for Chloe’s liking. 

She skypes Max to try and take her mind off how much she hates how everything has changed. It helps, a little. Max’s mom still goes overboard with Christmas decorations, so the inside of their house looks like Santa’s Workshop. Somethings don’t change. It’s a small comfort. 

“Yikes, Caulfield. What happened to your shirt?” Chloe greets.

Max looks down at her shirt and sighs. Because it’s covered in flour and globs of frosting.  _ “I was helping my mom bake cookies for her office Christmas party.” _

“Doesn’t the old Vanessa Machine just buy her wares from the store?”

_ “Yeah, usually. I guess she wanted to make a good impression on her coworkers. Make them think she’s like a domestic goddess or something. Which is ironic because she’s never home.” _

Chloe’s heart aches, suddenly. Not for herself- she’s been throwing a raving pity party for herself for months now- but for Max. Things haven’t been super easy on Max, either. She had to leave behind the only home she knew for a place she never wanted to go to. Plus, Chloe was pretty sure Max was closer to William than she was to her own father. 

“You must be lonely.” Chloe says more pitifully than she means to.

Max shrugs.  _ “I’m not lonely. I have you.” _ She says it so matter-of-factly it makes Chloe’s chest hurt. 

////

Christmas day sucks. 

Once upon a time Chloe would wake up at the buttcrack of dawn, pittering around with excitement, waking up her parents in a hurry so she could get to her presents. As she got older she slept a little later but was still no less excited.

This year she could barely find the energy to get out of bed. 

She had been up most of the night just staring at the ceiling, doing the math trying to figure out if it was worth it to try and sneak a cigarette. 

Chloe heard her mom rustling about downstairs; smelled the coffee a few minutes later. Joyce probably didn’t sleep much better. 

Eventually Chloe dragged herself out of bed, threw on her favorite sweatshirt that was more holes than hoodie, and trudged downstairs. 

Her mom was wearing a robe, slippers, and resigned expression. They didn’t have a tree but they did have two presents on top of the coffee table with some tinsel around the perimeter. One was from Chloe. A mug she had made in her ceramics class and painted after school with the teacher’s permission. There were some perks to your dad dying. People don’t really know how to deal with you so they just get you whatever you ask for so they don’t have to. 

Chloe’s present was in the shape of a shoebox, probably recycled from the pair of work shoes her mom had to buy since she was working so much more now. Unlike all the years before Chloe didn’t bother making a Christmas list. Mostly because the only things she wanted she couldn’t have (her dad alive and Max still in Arcadia Bay). But also because she knew her mom wouldn’t be able to afford anything anyways. It’s a miracle their lights were still on.

“Merry Christmas, Chloe.” Her mom says. It feels empty. Like they’re just going through the motions.

Still, Chloe doesn’t have the energy to start a fight so she doesn’t. “Merry Christmas, mom.”

They linger in the kitchen for a few minutes, drinking coffee. Finally, when they can’t put it off any longer, they make their way to the living room to open their presents. 

Joyce nearly cries when she sees the mug. It’s nothing special, in Chloe’s eyes. It’s kind of lumpy, the paint is a bit streaky, and the pattern (plain blue with red hearts) is pretty unremarkable. Joyce’s eyes brim with tears though. She hugs Chloe and Chloe is too stiff to hug back. Joyce practically shoves the present meant for Chloe in her daughter’s hands. 

The wrapping paper was covered in little cartoon reindeers. They smiled mockingly at Chloe as she unwrapped the gift. Inside the shoebox was a brand new sweatshirt: a black hoodie with a large electric blue butterfly on the front. 

“Thanks, mom. It’s- it’s real nice.”  _ Too nice. How much money did she spend on this thing? _

A smile worked its way onto Joyce’s lips, like she had a secret. “I figured you would need it up in Seattle. It’s cold this time of year.”

Chloe’s brain short circuited. “What?”

Joyce pulled a small slip of paper out of the pocket of her robe and handed it to Chloe. The girl took it with trembling hands. It was a bus ticket.

“You leave tomorrow morning. I’m sorry about the short notice but I wanted it to be a surprise.” 

Chloe is still trembling. “I- I’ll get to see Max?” She says, still dumbfounded.

Joyce nods. “The Caulfields are gonna pick you up and you’ll stay with them for a week and a half. You come back the day after New years.” 

Chloe stares at the ticket. She leaves at seven am tomorrow morning which is a lot earlier than she’s been waking up but she couldn’t give a shit because she’s going to see  _ Max _ .

She hugs her mom. A real hug. The kind of hug the woman deserves. Chloe can’t really speak through the lump in her throat but she hopes the tears of happiness running down her face and how tightly she’s holding onto her mom speaks for her.

////

The first thing she does is skype Max. 

Max knew, of course, because it seems Max knows all. 

_ “They only told me a few days ago because my mom left her planner open on the table. She had ‘Pick Up Chloe’ written in bold letters. I’m not sure if she wanted me to find it or not. But they couldn’t keep the secret after that.”  _

“Dude, chill, I’m not mad. I’m the opposite of mad! I’m so excited to see you. You have no idea.” Chloe was still trembling with excitement.

The look on Max’s face indicated that, yes, she had some idea of how excited Chloe was. They both missed each other terribly. Soon, though, they’d be able to see each other.

“So, Mad Max, what should I bring?”

////

It took less than an hour for Chloe to pack. However she spent another hour carefully wrapping Max’s gift and then placing it a safe spot in her backpack where it was certain that it wouldn’t break. 

The gift was small, nothing really to write home about. Though, Chloe was still nervous to give it to Max. She’s not sure why. 

////

Time seemed to pass excruciatingly slow. 

They take a bus to the bus station. A few months ago, Chloe would have made a joke about ‘Bus-ception’ or something. Now all Chloe does is stare quietly out the window. 

The bus rolls up and they say their goodbyes. Chloe wishes her mom could have gotten the time off work. If not to come with her then to just relax. The woman really had been working too hard lately. 

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” This is the first time her mom is going to be alone- really, actually alone in that house since… since everything that happened. 

“Yes, sweetheart. I’ll be okay.” Joyce smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes. She gently tucks a strand of stray hair behind Chloe’s hear, let’s her hand linger on Chloe’s cheek. Her mom’s hand is cold; she’s not wearing gloves. 

“Promise?” Chloe asks and hating how childish she sounds.

“Promise.” Joyce kisses Chloe’s forehead.“I love you, Chloe.” Joyce said,“Be good for the Caulfields, ya hear?” 

“I will, mom. I love you too.”

They don’t hug goodbye but Joyce watches as Chloe boards the bus. 

////

Seeing Max across the station feels like coming home. Whatever she had that Max had  _ left _ dissipated the moment she saw the girl. All the hurt and ill feelings Chloe may have felt were gone in an instant. 

Because Max was there. And Chloe was there too. 

The girl had changed a lot in the three months she’d been gone. Granted, Chloe saw Max everyday pretty much through Skype or selfies they exchanged. It’s different seeing her in person. The girl never had the greatest posture but she looks even more slumped over now. Her signature headband was gone since her hair was short enough to no longer require it. Max was smiling at something her parents were saying but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. 

Chloe doesn’t realize she’s running across the platform until her body collides with Max’s. Max lets out a small ‘oof’ and Chloe hugged her tighter. 

“I missed you, weirdo.” Chloe says soft enough for only Max to hear.

“Goop.” Max whispers back.

Chloe barks out a laugh and holds Max like she’s never going to let go ever again. 

It’s weird. Chloe was never one for physical contact. Neither of them really were. But in that moment Chloe was so full of relief, like a weight had been lifted, that she just let her instincts take over and hug Max.

After a long moment they finally parted. For the briefest of seconds, Chloe isn’t even sure why, she glances down at Max’s lips. She feels her cheeks start to burn and looks away.

_ (What the fuck??)  _

////

The Caulfields were polite and as formal as always, greeting Chloe with firm handshakes and apologies that they couldn’t stay down in Arcadia longer.

Something had always unsettled Chloe about them. They seemed just a bit too stiff, a bit too fake for Chloe’s liking. Not that they were bad parents or horrible people. Vanessa and Ryan loved their daughter more than anything and they were generally kind to the people around them. It’s just… off putting, Chloe supposes. All their politeness. It seems superficial at times.

Still, Chloe was raised by a woman who deeply values Southern hospitality so she’s nothing but well mannered around the Caulfields. As well mannered as Chloe Price can be, anyways.

The four made their way out of the bus station and to the Caulfield’s car. When Chloe sees it she stops dead in her tracks without meaning too. Because the last time she saw it was the day of her dad’s funeral. 

(A day she thought of almost as much as the day he actually died)

Max immediately senses what’s going through Chloe’s head, grabs Chloe’s hand, and gives it a light squeeze. 

Chloe doesn’t let go of Max’s hand until they get to her house.

////

Once they got to Max’s house they took off their shoes. The Caulfields have always been pretty anal about the no shoes in the house rule for as long as Chloe can remember. It’s a pain in the ass, especially since a house was meant to look like it was  _ lived _ in not tiptoed around. However, it does bring Chloe comfort in a weird sort of way. So many things have changed in both their lives but at least some things didn’t. 

They climbed the stairs two at a time. Chloe caught glimpses of family photographs and old art pieces. She wanted to stay and look at them but Max pulled Chloe into her room before Chloe could protest otherwise.

Chloe smiled when she saw Max’s room. 

“Why are you smiling?” Max asked, sounding a little nervous. 

“Because you’re room is so…  _ you _ .”

Chloe has seen parts of Max’s room before during video chats but it’s different seeing it in person. 

The furniture was completely different than what Chloe was used to seeing: brand new, on trend pieces instead of old stuff Max found at thrift stores because she insisted that the old stuff is just better. The new stuff just looked timeless in a way that  _ fit _ Max. Other than the furniture everything else was familiar. Smaller details about the room like Max’s desk lamp that she got a garage sale for fifty cents, the books on her bookshelf, the cameras and knick knacks she had on display. Not to mention the gallery that Max always had in her room. 

Dozens of photos hung on the walls. Chloe felt breathless as she examined them.

It felt like seeing Arcadia for the first time. That’s how she always felt when she looked at Max’s photos: the girl had a knack for capturing everything so uniquely. Max could take a picture of a field of grass and somehow make it feel like something Chloe has never seen before. 

That was Max’s gift, Chloe thought. Seeing things that no one else could. 

(It made her wonder what Max saw in her. What worth did she see that justified keeping her around?)

Most of the photos Chloe recognized. They had graced the walls of Max’s old room in Arcadia. It was clear that Max hadn’t really taken any photos since she arrived in Seattle. Normally the gallery in Max’s room was constantly changing due to the sheer volume of pictures she took. The photos that hung on her walls now were months old at least. 

Chloe would question Max about that later. Right now she couldn’t take her eyes off one photo in particular. 

It was the same photo Chloe had. A well worn polaroid of her and her dad and Max, dressed in their old pirate gear. Max and her were no older than nine. This photo was at the heart of all the others- literally. Placed directly in the center with a bit of space from all of the photos so it was sure to stand out. 

“I don’t remember that day.” Max says suddenly. It startles Chloe into looking at her. “When we were kids,” Max continued, “… all those days kinda blurred together. Looking back it all feels like one really long play date.” Max is smiling but there are tears in her eyes.

“Do you miss him?” Chloe asks. It’s kind of unfair of her to ask such a question when Max was simply reminiscing about their childhoods. It comes out harsher than she means it to. Like she’s giving Max a test and the girl better pass. 

“I do.” Max looks back at the photo, then sighs. “I just… feel guilty.” Max admits. 

“Why?” Chloe hasn’t stopped looking at her. 

Max opens her mouth. Then closes it. She struggles for a minute, to find the right words. 

“Sometimes I forget he’s gone. Because I’m in Seattle, y’know?” Max wipes tears that are running down her face. Chloe wants to comfort her, to wrap her in a hug like she did at the bus station. But she’s not quite sure how to do that stuff; how to be the emotionally supportive friend. How to handle having emotions other than anger. So she just watches. Waits for Max to continue. Which, she does- after a minute. 

“I’m just not constantly around memories. I don’t see our old middle school where he would pick us up, I don’t see the park we played in when we were little, I don’t see your house and all those memories. And plus nobody knows me here. So it’s not like people are always saying to me ‘I’m sorry for your loss’.” Max manages to stay in control of her emotions for the first part. She’s still crying though they aren’t the uncontrollable sobs that Chloe has become far too familiar with. 

That hits Chloe in a way. How Max doesn’t know anyone here. Surely she must have made at least one friend in the months she’s been in Seattle? At least one person must have seen how awesome and funny and kind Max is? 

There’s a hurt in Max’s eyes. A hurt that Chloe knows is reflected in her own. She may not be good at all this emotional stuff but there is one area Chloe has always been exceptional in: cheering Max up.

“Yeah, it does suck being in Arcadia. But at least you don’t have to deal with the whole place smelling like fish all the time.” This earns a dry laugh out of Max, so Chloe keeps going. She really hates seeing Max so sad. “I mean, I didn’t realize how badly Arcadia stunk until I came here. Seattle definitely doesn’t smell like roses but let’s be honest, anything is better than fish.” 

Max is laughing harder now. Chloe presses on. 

“I mean, if there was a candle made for Arcadia it would just be called ‘Dead, Rotting Fish’.” Chloe is laughing now too. She really missed Max’s laughter. 

They laugh until their bellies hurt then laugh some more. 

////

Once they’re all laughed out, they lay down on Max’s bed. It’s big enough for them both to fit without touching. However, they find themselves migrating together so that they’re shoulder to shoulder. It’s comforting being able to just sit and say nothing; to not feel pressured to fill every moment with words. 

Her and Max didn’t need to be constantly talking. There were days where they just spent  _ hours _ in silence. Max would be reading a book and Chloe would be drawing and they wouldn’t talk to each other until it was dinner time. Those times were never boring, either. Chloe couldn’t think of another person who she could share such comfortable silences with for such long periods of time. Sure she could be in silence with Steph and Mikey but they didn’t give Chloe that sense of  _ home _ that Max did.

Out of all the things she missed about Max being in Seattle this was probably on the top of the list. How they could just sit together and not say anything at all and it could still be the best afternoon ever. 

////

They eat dinner and it’s good. Vanessa made her signature coffee cake for dessert, which Chloe had no less than four helpings of. 

After dinner, Vannessa and Ryan did something that surprised her. They handed her two neatly wrapped boxes. One was labeled for her and the other was for her mom. 

“We hope these gifts don’t overstep any boundaries.” Vanessa said as Chloe took the gifts from her hands. 

The gift for Joyce was noticeably lighter than the one for Chloe. It probably was some cash or a check. Chloe really hoped that her mom took it. 

Carefully, Chloe unwrapped her own gift. It was wrapped in thick paper- definitely not the kind you get at the dollar store- and Chloe almost dropped it when she saw what it was. 

“I- I really appreciate you guy, but I can’t take this. It must have cost a lot of money-” Chloe stammered, already trying to give the gift back. 

“Think of it as an investment.” Ryan stated. “Now that you’re going to Blackwell Academy, you need the proper supplies to really make the most of your education. Having a laptop will certainly help you, will it not?”

_ Well, yeah _ . Chloe thought to herself. Her old computer was a hand-me-down from her parents. It was at least ten years and slow as all fuck. But a brand new laptop? She couldn’t accept such a gift. 

“Seriously, I can’t take this. I don’t deserve it.”

“Nonsense, Chloe. Of course you do.” Vanessa chided. 

Chloe almost believed her. 

////

After some more of Chloe trying to refuse the laptop she finally relented and accepted it. The Caulfields were right, after all. A new laptop would be more than useful. Plus it had a built in webcam so Chloe no longer had to rely on the outdated piece of junk webcam she got at RadioShack for ten dollars. 

The two girls went up to Max’s room for some quiet time. 

“I- uh, I got you a gift.” Chloe stammered as soon as Max shut the door. “I was going to give it to you-  _ shit _ , I don’t know when. I guess I wanted to wait for the right time. But no time like present right? Ha, get it?” Chloe said as she dug around in her backpack, praying to whatever god was listening that it didn’t break in transit. Thankfully, it didn’t and Chloe breathed an audible sigh of relief. “Ta da.” Chloe said, presenting the ball shaped mass wrapped in old newspaper.

Max unwrapped the gift like she was unwrapping the most precious thing in the universe. 

“Holy shit.” Max breathed out when she saw it. 

Chloe knew that Max knew what it was. 

“Chloe this is  _ beautiful _ .”

As Max stood there, carefully turning the gift in her hands with childlike wonder on her face, Chloe couldn’t stop herself from thinking,  _ Yeah, yeah it is. _

(That thought scared Chloe so she shoved it as deep down as she could)

(Because, seriously, what the  _ fuck _ )

“I have a gift for you too.” Max said once she placed her gift proudly in the center of the bookshelf reserved for her most prized possessions. The action sent a flare of something in Chloe’s chest. 

Max barrelled her way over to her closet. It takes her a minute to find what she needs but as soon as she does she hand the items over to Chloe. One is a small photo album made of thick black leather. Inside are about two dozen pictures. Polaroids that Max has taken. Most feature her, Max, and William. Some are just her and William. Candid moments that Max has captured over the years. 

The second object Max is holding behind her back. Once Chloe is done leafing through the album Max gives it to her. It’s a single framed photograph that Chloe immediately recognizes. 

It was taken just a few hours before William died. William was next to Chloe in their kitchen, making pancakes. Max must have snapped the shot when Chloe wasn’t paying attention; she doesn’t remember the picture being taken. 

In her hands was the last picture of William.

Chloe burst into tears and Max was right by her side, ready to hold her. 

////

She calls her mom everyday. 

This is the first time Chloe has been away from her for so long. 

It’s also the first time Joyce is in that house, truly alone. 

_ “I’m fine, Chloe. No need to worry about me.”  _ Joyce keeps telling her. Chloe doesn’t completely believe her. Not because her mom isn’t strong. The opposite, actually. There’s only so much a person can take. And Chloe’s mom has taken too much these last few months. 

////

Everyday Chloe spends up there is perfect. 

Most of the time is spent in Max’s room. Which Chloe doesn’t mind one bit. 

They spend their days much like they spent them back in Arcadia: watching movies, drawing, coming up with crazy stories. 

More than once Chloe lets herself get lost in the daydream that Max never left, simply moved to a different house in Arcadia. That they both still go to the same school and see each other every day. It’s a good daydream. A lot better than the nightmares she’s been having. 

////

Chloe doesn’t realize how bad her nightmares were until Max is waking her up from one. 

Normally, Chloe wakes up in a cold sweat, alone in her room. There’s no one around to witness her falling apart; no one there to hold her as she cries. 

This time, Max is there. Wrapping warm arms around her, whispering reassurances that Chloe doesn’t quite believe but is still comforted by, making sure Chloe knows she’s not alone. 

Just like that night, not too long ago, when they sat on the beach and watched the waves reflect the moonlight and pretended that their worlds weren’t falling apart around them. 

It’s nice, to let herself be held like this. Held like things were gonna be okay. 

////

New Year’s Eve comes far too soon. 

In just two days Chloe will have to leave. 

She tries not to think about it as she helps Max hang up the streamers. 

The Caulfields are hosting a party tonight. “A casual gathering of friends,” as Vanessa so creepily put it. Mostly just coworkers. 

At least the Caulfields are allowing the girls each to have a glass of champagne. 

“A little to the left.” Max instructs. 

“My left or your left?” 

Max looked like she wanted to face palm herself. She probably would have too if she wasn’t holding onto the streamers. “Chloe we’re both facing the same direction.” Max deadpanned.

“You know I’m not good with directions!” Chloe replies.

Max chuckles, “Yeah, you are pretty terrible.” 

“Meanie.” Chloe says, sticking her tongue out.

“Dork.”

Neither of them mention how this conversation is nearly identical to the one they had three months ago, just an hour before they learned that William was dead. Chloe wished she could forget that day. Forget everything about it. But every single detail is seared into her memory. Every single memory lingers like a scar that refuses to fade. 

////

They get back from their walk minutes before midnight. 

Neither one of them want to go back inside- the adults have just grown louder as the night wore on.

So they sat on the swingset. Chloe hasn’t sat on it yet but she did see it gleaming in the afternoon sun the first full day she spent here. It’s not like the swingset her dad made for them when they were kids. A point that Max told her once; a point that Chloe now understands. 

She sits on the left hand swing. Max on her right. It doesn’t creak in the familiar way the swingset in Arcadia does. 

Maybe if the fireworks hadn’t started, Chloe would have said something more. Maybe if she had said something more, their lives would have turned out a bit differently.

But Chloe didn’t say anything more. Chloe just watched Max watch the fireworks above them.

The whole thing was like a scene from a stupid, cliche movie. One that Chloe would have hated. 

Chloe didn’t hate this though. Actually, it was the exact opposite. 

////

They linger at the bus station for as long as they can.

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” Max says, “I wish you could stay with me.”

Suddenly, Chloe gets an idea. She pries one of the rings off her fingers and hands it to Max. “Here, take it. I know it’s not much but it’s something, you know? A little piece of me to go with you.” 

In reality, the ring is nothing special. She got ten of them for a dollar at the Arcadia Bay thrift store. Max reveres it like it’s the Hope Diamond. Gingerly, she puts it on her finger- the ring finger of her right hand, Chloe notes- and it gives Chloe butterflies. 

Then Max takes one of the bracelets off her wrists. It’s blue with red accents. One Chloe has seen Max wear for years. 

“A little piece of me to go with you.” Max says as she ties the bracelet around Chloe’s right wrist. Chloe decides she’s never taking it off. “This way we’re always together.” Max adds.

Chloe smiles. She’s listened to the tape Max left her enough times to have it memorized by now. “Even when we’re not.” She finishes.

“Even when we’re not.” Max echoes.

It feels like some kind of pact; some kind of promise. 

////

Arcadia hasn’t felt like a home; not since her dad died and Max left. 

Coming back after spending nearly two whole weeks with Max cemented that. This place wasn’t her home. Not without two of the people she cared about most. 

////

Steph and Mikey tried to get her to hang out on their last day of winter break. Chloe told them she was busy.

She spent the whole day leafing through all the pictures Max gave her.

_____

Getting gifts for other people had never been Max’s strong suit. Most of the time she went with the stereotypical gifts for her parents. Things like keychains with ‘#1 Dad’ or fill in the blank books about what she loved most about her mom. This year was no different. She ended up getting her parents matching mugs with a couple polaroids she had taken on their last family hike. It wasn’t much and the gifts weren’t all that meaningful but she hoped her parents liked them. 

Finding a gift for Chloe… that was a whole other challenge. 

Last year she had made both Chloe and Joyce a bunch of little origami figures. For her birthday Chloe had given her an origami book so it felt like she was paying her back, somehow. It was fun for Max; it has her hands something to do other than tapping her pen on her notebook. This year, Max hoped that the gifts she had gotten them was a bit more significant than that.

////

“Mom, how much would it cost to ship a package down to Arcadia?”

“Oh, don’t worry about it dear.” 

“I have Christmas money from Grandpa, I can send it-”

“I know, honey. It’s just, why don’t you hold off on sending it for a bit. The post office charges more during the holidays.”

That sounds like a lie but Max doesn’t want to argue with her mom so she lets it go. 

////

Her parents sit her down a couple days later. 

It feels like that day back in September. The day they told her they were moving to Seattle. 

For a stupid, hopeful second, Max thinks that her parents are going to tell her they’re moving back. Hell, she’d settle for Portland. 

Her dad was smiling in a way that she hadn’t seen him do since Arcadia. Like a little kid on Christmas morning. That smile is what gave Max hope they were going back; going  _ home _ . 

“Chloe is coming to visit in two days.” Her mom says coolly, hands folded in her lap.

Max feels disappointment for only a second. Next all she feels is excitement. 

“Here?” Max replies stupidly.

Her dad’s smile grows. “Yes, here. She’s taking the bus here and she’ll be staying with us until the day after New Year’s.”

This is the best Christmas gift she could have asked for. 

Well, second best.

Either way she hugged both her parents tight. 

All that matters is Chloe is coming. 

Chloe is  _ coming _ . The thought alone makes Max smile like she hasn’t done in months. 

////

When Chloe hugged her at the bus station it takes her by surprise. Chloe has never been an affectionate person. Ever. So getting a hug from her is a bit weird. 

(It’s nice, though. Really, really nice)

////

Max freezes about the same time Chloe does. 

_ Shit shit shit shit _

Of course. Max  _ should _ have remembered that her parents’ car would not be a welcome sight for Chloe. 

Her parents don’t seem to notice Chloe’s shift in demeanor- they’re too busy talking amongst themselves about something Max could care less about. But Max can’t focus on anything else. It’s unsettling, really. Usually Chloe is constantly moving, constantly fidgeting. Twirling a pen around her fingers, bouncing her leg, nodding her head along to a beat only she can hear. 

Now she’s completely still. 

Max has  _ no _ idea what to do. No idea how to make this better. 

She reaches out for Chloe’s hand. Holding hands was never something they did all the time. Max expects Chloe to shrug her off, to pull away. She doesn’t. Instead, she squeezes Max’s hand.

The entire ride home, Chloe rubbed her thumb over Max’s hand in a way that gave her butterflies. 

////

Giving gifts was something Max thought she was bad at. Getting gifts was something she  _ knew _ she was bad at. Whenever someone gave her something, anything, Max had no idea how to respond. What should she say? How should she say it? If it was an item of clothing should she put it on right away? What if she hated it?

That’s why Christmas isn't her favorite holiday. There was too much stress involved.It surprised her when Chloe said she had a gift for her. Back when Max lived in Arcadia they would get each other gifts. Most of the time it was something small- a CD, a cool t-shirt, something like that. Chloe usually got Max the better gift because she was better at saving up her allowances. Max spent most of hers on film for her camera. 

Now that Chloe is rummaging through her bag Max is expecting her to pull out a book or maybe a DVD. 

The last thing she expects is what her present actually is. 

It’s a clay ball slightly larger than a grapefruit, painted black with little bits of white. It was clearly made in Chloe’s ceramics class because it has that kiln baked feel to it. Upon closer inspection Max realizes that the bits of white aren’t random but actually set in a very deliberate pattern. For they are not just ‘bits of white’ rather they are all the constellations they made up when they were kids. 

Max gasps when she realizes it. Nearly drops it on the ground. 

“Chloe this is  _ beautiful _ .” Max whispers. It feels like talking too loudly would disrupt this moment. 

////

Waking up with Chloe the next morning felt like Christmas. 

Max had always been an earlier riser than Chloe. A habit she got into when she went through a phase where all she took photos of was the sunrise. She had long since expanded her portfolio but the habit stuck with her. A habit that normally bugged the hell out of her because once she was awake she was  _ awake _ . Which got pretty annoying when she was exhausted. Right now, though, it was a habit she was grateful for. 

Because, right now, she got to watch Chloe look the most peaceful she had ever seen her. They’d slept in the same bed dozens of times before. Hundreds even. Max never really watched Chloe while she slept. It was creepy and she never felt compelled too. 

In this moment, though, she couldn’t tear her eyes away. 

The day William died, Chloe couldn’t bear to be alone. So Max stayed by her side. It felt like the least she could do since she was moving hundreds of miles away in just a few days. Chloe didn’t sleep much that night; neither did Max. When Chloe did finally manage to fall asleep that night, her face was tight- almost contorted. Her whole body was stiff. She whimpered in her sleep. 

So, yeah. Seeing Chloe so relaxed right now made Max feel good. Like maybe the hard part was behind them.

////

Most of the trip is spent doing dumb touristy shit that Max and her parents did when they first moved to Seattle. First on the list was the Space Needle.

Chloe got all the way to the top, looked out at the city below them, and stuck her nose in the air like it stunk. 

“You were right, Max. The Space Needle  _ is  _ pretentious.” 

(Max laughed at that comment for a solid five minutes)

They also went to various Starbuckses, record shops, and the Seattle Aquarium. When Max did all these things with her parents, it felt like she was being forced to have fun. But doing the exact things with Chloe was the complete opposite. With Chloe, all these things felt excited; exhilarating, even.

That was the magic of Chloe, Max thought, that girl could make  _ anything _ fun. 

////

Max knew Chloe had nightmares. And that she had them often. Once a week, if not more, Chloe called her in the middle of the night because she had a nightmare and couldn’t go back to sleep. Or, possibly more sad, she was too afraid to go to sleep because she didn’t want the nightmares to come.

Given all this, she should have realized how bad the nightmares were; that they were  _ bad _ . It took actually being in the same room, the same bed, for Max to realize just how bad they were. 

It was the middle of the night when Chloe woke her up by thrashing and screaming out in her sleep. Something along the lines of ‘Dad’ and ‘Don’t go’. It fucking broke Max’s heart to hear so much pain in her voice. 

“Chloe!” Max whispered harshly, afraid of waking up her parents, “Chloe! Wake up!”

And Chloe did, gasping like she’d been underwater. She flailed about, arms and legs going wildly in every direction. 

Max grabbed onto her, held her as tight as she could. 

“You’re safe.” Max said. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m not going to let anything bad happen.”

It took a while for Chloe to finally relax in her arms. She was shaking, trembling, from whatever her nightmare was about. Admittedly, Max was curious. She wanted to know if Chloe’s nightmares were anything like her own. But, she didn’t question her about them. 

For the rest of the night, Max held her in her arms. 

////

Chloe is already up, drinking coffee at the kitchen table when Max finds her the next morning. She looks like she’s been awake for a while. There’s an empty plate in front of her. 

“You okay? Last night was-”

Honestly, Max is glad Chloe cut her off. How do you finish that sentence? ‘Scary’ seemed like too harsh a word, ‘intense’ didn’t quite cut it, and ‘something’ was just not right. 

“I’m fine.” Chloe says shortly. She gets up, throws her dishes in the sink so hard Max is shocked they don’t break, and skulks off. “Please don’t talk about it.” She mutters as she’s walking away.

So Max doesn’t. 

(Even though she really, really wants to)

////

The day they left for winter break Max heard one of the girls in her science class say that how you spend New Year's Eve is how you’ll spend the rest of the year. The girl droned on and on how she hoped some upperclassman boy- his name was probably Chad because that seemed like a fitting name for some douchebag on the football team- would kiss her at the party she planned on going too. 

Max wasn’t thinking about kissing anyone. She was thinking of being able to spend the day with Chloe. How nice it would be to hang out like they used to. Or, really, hang out at all. Max remembers thinking how Chloe would probably go to some party, get drunk, and maybe even kiss someone when the clock struck midnight. 

She remembers how the thought of Chloe kissing someone made Max’s heart clench in a painful sort of way. 

But Chloe isn’t at some party, kissing some stranger. She’s here, with Max, nursing the small glass of champagne that Max’s parents allowed them. She’s standing awkwardly in the corner, watching Vanessa tell one of Ryan’s coworkers a supposedly funny story about one of their first dates. It’s a story both Max and Chloe have heard before and that was particularly underwhelming. 

Max wondered how Chloe was at real parties. Chloe told her that she had some friends and acquaintances that she went with, how she drank quite a bit. But that didn’t really tell Max much. Was Chloe outgoing at these parties? Was she the life of them? Did people like her; gravitate towards her? Or did she act how she was now, watching and listening from the sidelines and keeping to herself?

She makes her way through the small crowd and over to Chloe’s side. 

“Having fun, Caulfield?” Chloe teases.

“No.” Max responds immediately.

Chloe barks out a laugh. “Neither am I. How ‘bout we blow this popsicle stand?”

“Oh my god you did not just say that,” Max muttered, trying to hide a chuckle. 

“I did. Now let’s get out of here.” Chloe chugs the rest of her champagne, shoves a few handfuls of cookies and mini pastries in the pocket of her hoodie, and strolls out of the house. Max follows her lead.

It’s still a few hours until midnight so the streets are quiet. Most people are inside partying. 

“Are your parents gonna notice we’re gone?”

Max shrugged. “Probably not for a while. They’re pretty drunk already. I bet they’ll think we just went up to my room.”

Chloe looked at Max for a long minute, not saying anything. It was hard to see each other in the dim light of the streetlamps. However, Max knew the exact look that was on Chloe’s face. It was the same one she got when she was figuring out a difficult math problem, or working through the possibility that some absurd theory might not be totally absurd. 

“They don’t pay a lot of attention to you, do they?” Chloe says in a voice that sends shivers up Max’s spine.

“No,” Max finds herself replying instantly, “They don’t.”

Chloe nods and turns her attention to the long street ahead of them. “That’s a damn shame. You’re the best person I know.” It’s not a casual, throw away comment. Chloe says it slowly, deliberately. Like she means every single word that she’s saying. 

These words shift the conversation into a territory Max isn’t ready to explore, so she shoves her hands in her pockets, heaves out an awkward laugh, and replies with a “You’re not so bad yourself.”

It’s a stupid thing to say and it has Max kicking herself for the entire rest of the walk. 

////

Fireworks have always been one of Max’s favorite things. 

They were one of the few things that you really couldn’t get a good picture of. At least not with the cameras Max used. Fireworks weren’t something that could be captured; they had to be  _ experienced _ . First hand, without a camera getting in the way of the magic of them. 

And that’s precisely what Max does when the fireworks start. Their backyard is in the perfect position- about a mile from the field where the fireworks are being set off to watch the display. Max supposed this was one good thing about Seattle. They had fireworks way more often than Arcadia Bay did. Arcadia only had one show a year, 4th of July, and that was it. 

Halfway through the show Max looked over at Chloe. To her surprise, Chloe wasn’t looking at the sky. Rather, she was looking at Max. A soft, happy expression was on the other girl’s face. Chloe quickly shifted her gaze up, towards the sky, a telltale redness spreading across her cheeks.

(If this was how she rang in the new year… well, Max supposed there were far worse ways)

////

Max watches Chloe board the bus. Watches her take her seat. Watches as she fumbles with her tangled earbuds. 

Chloe notices Max watching and gives a wave, the bracelet dangling from her wrist. It makes Max smile. She waves back. 

Her parents let her watch Chloe’s bus until it disappears from view. As soon as it does, Max’s heart feels heavy in her chest. Not in the same way when William died or the days following. It’s different. 

The only way she can really describe it is feeling homesick. 

(Max pushes that thought- and whatever the  _ hell _ it means- as deep down as it will go)

////

As soon as Max gets home she puts Chloe’s ring on a piece of twine and fashions it to her neck. This way she can always have a piece of Chloe with her. 

It feels heavy and nice on her neck. 


	6. chapter five: the bittersweet between my teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aka: summer vacation. things are great until they aren’t

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from 'youngblood' by the naked and famous

The only thing that kept Max going throughout the last month of school was the fact that she’ll be able to spend the  _ entire _ summer with Chloe. Well, her parents and Chloe. But whatever. It was still nearly two full months that she got to spend with Chloe. 

Bonus: they were staying at a lakeside cottage hours away from Seattle. Not only did Max get to spend time with Chloe, she also got to spend time away from Seattle. 

God, summer could  _ not _ come fast enough.

////

Final exams were a blur despite the last month of school going by excruciatingly slow. She didn’t study as hard as she probably should have because she was spending way too much time daydreaming about the days she and Chloe would spend swimming in the lake, hiking in the forests, making s’mores by the campfire. Oh well. Who needs algebra anyway? 

The last bell rang and Max jumped up from her seat like she was on fire. She practically sprinted home. Chloe had already been out of school for a week and was on a bus to Seattle this very moment. Once she arrived they’d all head straight to the cabin. Max was literally counting down the seconds until Chloe arrived. 

////

Being reunited always felt so surreal. 

But in, like, the best way. 

They hugged until Max’s dad told them they should probably get a move on. It was nearly seven pm and they still had a five hour drive ahead of them. 

Once in the car they talked and talked and talked like no time had passed at all between them.

That was one thing (among many) that Max loved about their friendship: even during the hard times, they could still find something to talk about. And it never felt forced or like they were just trying to fill a silence. Because the could enjoy the silences, too. 

////

The cabin was...underwhelming. Or maybe it was because Max was too tired from a five hour car ride to really give a damn about how it looked. Also, it was nearly midnight so that took away some of the magic of seeing it for the first time. The cabin probably looked better in the daytime. 

Max and Chloe made their way to their room- a small, cozy little space that had a bunk bed in it and not much else. The girls were so exhausted they didn’t even argue about who got top bunk or changed into their pajamas. They just climbed into bed and collapsed. 

////

The next morning Max was woken up by the smell of bacon and pancakes. 

That, and Chloe smacking her with a pillow and telling to, quote, “Get your bony ass out of bed.”

“Five more minutes.” Max said, burying her face into her pillow. Chloe rolled her eyes, grabbed Max, and literally pulled her out of bed. Luckily, Max had chosen the bottom bunk so it wasn’t much of a fall. 

(She wondered if Chloe would have pulled the same stunt if Max had ended up on the top bunk)

“What happened to you being the one that slept all day?” Max asked, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She noticed that Chloe had changed out of the clothes she wore the night before and into a pair of denim shorts and a tank top with red and white stripes. It was weird seeing her in clothes like this. Lately, all Max saw her in was black clothes with studs and patches. 

“I’m a simple woman, Maxine. I smell bacon, I wake up.” 

Max stretched her arms above her head. “Mhm, that never stopped you from sleeping in back in Arcadia.” 

“Whatever, nerd. Get dressed. Or I’m eating your bacon.” 

“Is that a threat?”

Chloe lingered in the doorway with a face much too grave for their conversation. “No, it’s a promise,” sounding like a gritty private eye in one of those film noir movies.

“Nerd!” Max yelled after Chloe.

////

They wolfed down their breakfast so fast Max knew she was going to have a bellyache for a while. But it didn’t matter. Seven weeks sounds like a long time but Max knew it would go by too quickly. And she wanted to spend every possible second with Chloe.

“Don’t forget, to be back by noon! We’re going grocery shopping and you need to come with us!”

Chloe gave a two fingered salute to Max’s mom. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Caulfield, we’ll be back by then!” 

Last night Max wasn’t able to notice much about the area other than there was a forest, lakes and mountains. In the daytime, however, she got a much clearer picture. The cabin was only a few yards away from the main road- a two-lane stretch of asphalt that was only moderately kept up- and was right up against the lake. There was a dock with a small boat tethered to it and Max assumed it came with the cabin since her parents mentioned something about going boating. The lake itself was about as wide as it was long, and too big to be able to swim across. Surrounding them was a thick forest with large pine trees. Just beyond that were towering mountains lush with greenery. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Chloe said in a teasing voice. 

Max was so enamored with the beauty of it all she almost  _ didn’t _ want to take a picture. It felt like photographing it wouldn’t do this place justice. But, if Max was anything it was a photographer and she knew she couldn’t pass up such a beautiful shot. So she grabbed the camera around her neck (the digital one her parents got her for her for Christmas). 

Chloe was several paces in front of her, back turned to Max, and looking ahead at a possible trail to take. It was the perfect shot so Max took it: Chloe just slightly off center yet still the focus point despite being surrounded by tall trees and even taller mountains. She stared at the photo for a moment, letting herself marvel at how beautiful Chloe was without even trying. 

Then Chloe was calling her name again and Max did her best to push those thoughts out of her mind. 

////

Being up here felt so weird. It felt like a million miles from civilization, even though the town was less than five miles away. The quiet chirping of birds, the breeze rustling through the trees, the water lapping at the shore were all a far cry from the loud noises of the city. Hell, it was a far cry even from Arcadia Bay. There were no cars zooming by or boats honking in the distance or people yelling at each other from across the street. 

It was weird, being here. 

But also nice. 

Both of them needed to get away from everything. And here is about as far away as you could get. 

Chloe is staring off into the woods, literally off the beaten path, with an intensely focused look in her eyes. “Do you think we’ll see Bigfoot?” 

“Bigfoot isn’t real.” 

“Of course he’s real! You mean to tell me that an animal with four legs, a two foot long tongue, and a fifteen foot neck can be real but not a slightly large, biped ape creature?”

“A giraffe. You just described a giraffe. And if Bigfoot really  _ is _ real, how come no one has ever seen him? Like  _ really _ seen him. Grainy photos and questionable footprints don’t count.” 

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Not my fault you hate fun. C’mon, I wanna see Bigfoot.” She hopped over a log in a move that would have been really cool had she not slipped and fallen on her face.  _ “Mother fucker” _ Chloe hissed. 

Max rushed to her side to find Chloe with a couple gashes on her hands and arms. 

“Jesus, did you fall into a pile of nails?” Max asked.

Chloe groaned. “Felt like it.” She looked at Max who was only inches from her face. Max jumped back when she realized how close they were, then helped Chloe to her feet. “Do you think Bigfoot is attracted to the scent of blood like sharks are?”

“Oh my god Chloe give it a rest.”

“I  _ will _ find Bigfoot. Mark my words.”

“...okayyy. First, let's go back to the cabin and get you cleaned up. I think it’s almost noon anyways.”

“Have I mentioned that you hate fun?” 

“Once or twice.” 

////

Max’s parents don’t seem concerned that Chloe comes back bleeding. To be fair, Max suffers from nervous nosebleeds and they have known Chloe long enough to know her reckless tendencies often end in scraped knees and gashed elbows. They just sigh and tell them the first aid kit is under the sink in the bathroom. 

Patching up Chloe is something that Max is used too. The amount of times she’s fallen off her skateboard and scraped her knees, or played with chemicals and gotten boils, or all the times she tried to make pancakes and ended up burning her fingertips. Chloe has all sorts of little nicks and scars detailing her many misadventures. And Max was there for many of them.

Though, as Max applied hydrogen peroxide to the nastier of the cuts on Chloe’s hand, Max noticed a new scar on her palm. A small, thin line about an inch long.

Chloe caught Max staring. “Oh, that? I got that when I tried to smash a bottle over some dick’s head but it kinda backfired. A piece of glass got caught in my hand. Fucking thing bled forever.”

“Did you kick the guys ass?” Max wondered, drying the wound with a clean towel.

“Ha. I wish. Asshole was laughing too hard at me to put up a fight. I just gave up on it and walked away.” 

“Not so easy being a badass, huh?” 

“Yeah, it’s way harder than it looks.” Chloe replied with a smile. 

For a long minute they just looked at each other. The silence got real heavy real fast. A seriousness pressed on them like a giant weight. Max didn’t 

////

The town was bigger than Max was expecting but still very, very small. There was a gas station, a couple of small grocery stores, a hardware store, two diners,a few souvenir/general stores, a record shop, and a bowling alley. And that was it. It was kind of nice, actually. Back in Seattle Max was used to seeing coffee shops every other building. That and pretentious record stores. Here was a nice change of pace. Only what you needed. Nothing more. 

“Oh man, I cannot  _ wait _ to cream you in bowling.” Chloe said, arms full of grocery bags that she loaded into the trunk.

“Psh, in your dreams Price. Remember that bowling unit we did in sixth grade PE? And remember how I creamed you every single time?”

“You just got lucky.” Chloe replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. 

“For four straight weeks? Okay.” 

“Put your money where your mouth is, Caulfield.” Chloe challenged.

“Now girls,” Ryan said as he put the last of the groceries in the car, “there will be plenty of time for you to beat each other’s butts at bowling, but right now we’re going back to the cabin so please get in the car. Besides, the sooner we get home the sooner Vannessa can make her world famous shish kabobs.” He gave them his famous Ryan Caulfield Smile before he got into the car.

“You’re going  _ down _ hippie.” Chloe said to Max. 

Max just rolled her eyes. “You wish, derp face.

////

The days passed slowly and lazily, which Max very much appreciated. Some days they spent hiking the various trails (Chloe still hadn’t given up her hunt for Bigfoot), others they spent zipping around the lake on the boat, a few were spent in town playing round after round of bowling (Max was in the lead and Chloe was hopelessly far behind). 

Much of their time was spent near or on the lake. Whether they be swimming, inner tubing, or just laying out in the sun, the girls could often be found by the lakeside. It was calming there. Especially since there weren’t that many other people nearby. Other than a couple cabins across the lake, there was no one else in their vicinity. 

Max was laying down on her towel, trying to get a tan if her white as fuck skin would let her, reading a book when Chloe got out of the water. Lately, her quest had been to find the Loch Ness Monster or a sea serpent in the lake. She’d spend hours diving into the water trying to catch just a glimpse of either creature. If nothing at all, at least she can now hold her breath for nearly two minutes. Maybe, Max ventures, Chloe’s next mission will be to break the world record for holding your breath. At least that would be more attainable than cryptid hunting. 

“Enjoying the view, Caulfield?” Chloe joked, drying her hair off with the pirate towel she’s had since she was six. 

Max sputtered and choked on her own spit. Okay, so yeah  _ maybe _ she had been staring at Chloe getting out of the water. But it wasn’t Max’s fault. Last time Max saw Chloe, Chloe didn’t have abs.  _ That  _ was a new development that Max was still not used too. 

“Jesus, Max, you okay?”

“Yup!” Max half yelled. “Totally cool.” 

“.... right…. Anyways, when is lunch going to be ready? I’m starving?” 

“Yeah!” Max squeaks. She runs inside before Chloe can question her about why she was being so weird. 

////

They have a campfire nearly every night. Nine times out of ten, Max’s parents go to bed only an hour into it. They’re usually pretty buzzed from wine or scotch by that time anyways so the girls aren’t sad to see them go. 

If anything, they’re pretty happy to be out there by themselves, just enjoying the warm summer air and seemingly endless supply of s’mores. 

“Whoever invented the s’more,” Chloe said in between a huge bite of one, “I want to  _ marry _ them.”

“Gross, you wanna marry a Girl Scout?”

“What the fuck?”

“Loretta Scott Crew, while she didn’t invent the s’more, was the one creditied with first publishing the recipe for it. Back in 1927, I think.” Max replied as she placed a charred marshmallow on a graham cracker. 

“Okay, Snapple, how did you know that?”

Max shrugged. “I got bored one day. Ended up down a Wikipedia rabbit hole. Hey did you know that a six hundred pound octopus can squeeze through a hole the size of a quarter?”

“Bullshit.” A pause. “Really?”

“Really, really. I saw the video… and it’s…. Disturbing.” 

“Sounds like it. Okay, Ms. Wikipedia, answer me this: how come you can believe in octopuses when they can do  _ that _ but not an eight foot tall, really hairy guy with big feet?”

“Oh my god, Chloe you’re never going to give it a rest, are you?” 

Chloe gave a cheeky grin. “I  _ will _ find Bigfoot. Mark. My. Words.”

Max laughed and shook her head. “You’re so freaking  _ weird _ .”

////

Chloe getting sunburned to hell is probably the funniest thing that Chloe has done in a long time. 

At first it isn’t super funny because Chloe is in quite a bit of pain. But it also is a little funny because Max freaking  _ told  _ her to put sunscreen on. Of course, Chloe being Chloe, she didn’t listen. 

They spent the next few weeks inside, alternating between never ending games of Oopsies! And movie marathons. Despite everything, it was some of the best two weeks of Max’s life. 

////

The rest of their time at the cabin passes much too quickly. 

Before Max knows it, it’s their second to last night. After tomorrow, Max probably won’t see Chloe until Christmas. And that was the soonest she could see her. 

So maybe it was that- the knowledge that she wouldn’t see her for months after tomorrow- that caused her to turn over, to look at Chloe’s lips then leaned in before she could register the gravity of what she was doing. 

(Maybe it was all that talk about stars; maybe it was the fact that their perfect summer was finally ending)

(Maybe it was how Chloe looked so  _ ethereal _ underneath the moonlight)

Whatever it was, Max found herself looking at Chloe’s lips then leaning in. It was like her body was autopilot, like she was always  _ supposed _ to do this. Everything felt so right. 

Then a branch snapped a few feet away and they both jolted apart from each other. 

Chloe looked terrified. Max probably looked the same way.

Thing was though, she  _ wasn’t _ terrified of kissing Chloe. No, she realized what she was really scared of was  _ not _ kissing her. 

(Ironically, that thought scared her too)

( _ Fuck _ , it was all so confusing)

////

Max startles awake. She doesn’t remember having a nightmare- or even dreaming for that matter- but her heart is pounding anyway. Too much so to go back to sleep. 

So she gets out of bed and pads downstairs to grab some water. As she’s standing in the kitchen, she notices the bathroom light is on. Max sets down her glass and goes to investigate. She’s not sure what she was expecting to find, but Chloe laying down next to the toilet, bottle of vodka clutched in her hands  _ wasn’t _ it. 

Just as Max is about to ask Chloe what the  _ hell _ she’s doing, Chloe bolts upright and pukes into the toilet. Max rushes over to Chloe without a second thought, holds her hair back, and strokes her back in a way she hopes is comforting. 

Once Chloe is done, Max leaves the room for just a second. She grabs a washcloth, some aspirin, and a glass of water. She gives Chloe the water and aspirin, then runs the washcloth under cold water and wipes Chloe’s chin. 

Neither of them say anything throughout this whole exchange. Max puts the near empty bottle of vodka back in the cabinet (in the back, so hopefully her parents won’t notice it) then helps Chloe back up to their room. It’s awkward, since Chloe is leaning most of body weight onto Max. It’s a miracle they don’t wake up Max’s parents walking up the stairs. 

Max tucks Chloe into bed then climbs in next to her. 

It was one thing hearing about Chloe’s drinking. But Max had never really witnessed it first hand. Jesus, it must be really bad if Chloe was willing to break in to Max’s parents’ liquor cabinet in the middle of the night. Had she done this before on this trip? Or during the last time they saw each other for the holidays? Max wasn’t sure how to ask Chloe- or even if she should. Was it really her business? And it’s not like Chloe went out driving or walking afterwards. She just puked her guts out in the bathroom. Was that somehow worse? 

Chloe snuggled into Max’s side which took Max out of her thoughts. Chloe’s hand rests on the place right above her heart; it’s thrumming so loud in her chest Max is worried that it would wake Chloe up. She hopes it doesn’t. Right now… Chloe looks the most relaxed and at peace that Max has ever seen her. This whole vacation Chloe seemed more laid back than she’s been in the past, but sometimes it feels more like an act than the truth. Max sees the pain and grief still lingering behind Chloe’s bright eyes. But right now, at least, Chloe is at peace. Despite the events of just a few minutes ago. 

So Max lets Chloe rest. 

There will be time for questions later. 

_____

Ever since the holidays with Max, Chloe kept herself busy the only way she knew how: partying. When she was drinking or smoking or even just dancing with strangers, she wasn’t thinking about how much she missed Max or her dad or how beautiful Max looked while watching the fireworks. 

So she parties and she drinks and she smokes more than she should. But it’s fine, she tells herself, she’s totally got it under control.

////

Summer literally cannot come fast enough. Nearly two whole months with Max in a cabin far away from the bullshit of Arcadia Bay is exactly what she needs right now. 

////

The cabin is the most beautiful thing that she’s seen in a long time. Even in the dark of night it looks perfect. The best part? It’s hours and hours away from Arcadia. Thank god. 

////

Hunting for cryptids, as childish and outlandish as it is, is the most sane thing Chloe has done in a while. It’s not the actual activity in of itself. But rather the fact that she’s actually working towards a goal. Not just wandering aimlessly through life, trying to get through one day then the next. Sure, that goal is probably unattainable but that wasn’t really the point. 

(Besides, Chloe looks at Max and thinks to herself  _ well, there are more unattainable things in my life) _

////

Chloe’s favorite thing, she finds, is hanging around the bonfire with Max. 

Bonfires are something she’s always loved but never got to do too often. There have been a couple campouts and nights spent at the beach, though they were few and far apart. Up here, they did a bonfire almost every night. Chloe hated cliches but she’s not gonna lie: they were kinda like magic.

The second night of their stay is the first night they have a bonfire. Max has her dad’s guitar in her lap, tuning it carefully, and Chloe is watching Max at work. Slowly, Max tells her, Ryan has been teaching her how to play the guitar. She’s not a natural at it and surely won’t be selling out any arenas, but she’s decent enough to have a couple simple songs under her belt. 

Max strums out a simple tune that fills the quiet night air in a comforting way. 

“I remember the songs William played for us when we went camping.” Max says, out of the blue, once she finished with her song. “He’s part of the reason why I wanted to learn guitar.”

There’s a lump in Chloe’s throat that she doesn’t remember forming. 

“His ghost stories were the best, too.” Chloe adds. 

And they were. He was a master of using different voices, of timing his words just right. In another life, he could have been an actor, Chloe thinks. 

“My favorite was ‘The Haunting of Two Whales’.” Max says quietly. Both of them are staring into the fire now. It’s too hard to look at each other. 

“I swear, I didn’t want to go to that damned diner for, like, a month after he told that story.” 

“Me either. I thought for sure the Two Whale Spirit was gonna get me.” 

Chloe blows out a breath and looks up at Max. “That feels like forever ago. Like… I don’t know it’s stupid.”

“What’s stupid?”

“Like… some of those memories… they feel like they weren’t me. Like, how could a person as fucked up as me have such good, happy memories?” She can’t bare to look at Max right now so she busies herself with playing a loose thread on her shorts.

When Chloe musters up the courage to look up at Max again, Max is looking at her intently. She doesn’t say anything- neither of them do. They just sit in heavy silence for a little while longer before snuffing out the fire and heading inside. 

////

Her second favorite thing is being out on the water. 

Chloe had always liked the beach. Going to the beach wasn’t her absolute favorite thing to do during summer vacations, but it was up there. Here, like most other things, it’s different. Chloe absolutely cannot wait to go into the water. Even if they just hang out by the dock on their inner tubes, Chloe is excited for it. There’s just something comforting about being in the water. About being in the water with Max. 

So, it’s not surprising when she gets sunburned to hell. 

It wasn’t her fault she forgot to put on sunscreen.

…. Okay it most definitely  _ was _ her fault but whatever. Point was, she spent nearly seven hours in the sun without sunscreen on and ended up looking like a lobster. 

Ryan and Vanessa went to town to grab aloe vera and lotion while Max and Chloe stayed behind. Max only moderately teased Chloe. 

“I kept telling you to put on sunscreen.” Max said with a laugh.

“In my defense, I don’t like being told what to do.” With a great deal of pain, Chloe crossed her arms.

“Are sunburns punk rock or something?”

“There is nothing punk rock about looking like a fucking lobster.” 

“No,” Max giggled, “no there is not.”

////

While Chloe recovers from her borderline grotesque sunburn the girls spend most of their time inside. Luckily, this place has a pretty awesome entertainment system and pretty decent wifi so they were able to watch Netflix. There was also an impressively nerdy collection of boardgames, too. 

They played so much Oopsie! that Chloe thought she was going to lose her mind. 

“How does it feel to have a terrible sunburn  _ and _ the longest losing streak on Oopsie! ?” Max asked after their third straight hour of playing. 

“Must you mention my sunburn every five minutes?”

“Yup, I signed a contract.” 

Chloe threw a game piece at Max. “Asshole.”

Max just replied with a cheeky grin. 

////

It takes nearly two full weeks for her sunburn to become uncomfortable instead of excruciatingly painful. Once she’s able to go back out on the water she lathers almost a full bottle of sunscreen on herself. It makes Max laugh uncontrollably, seeing Chloe ghost white from the sunscreen, but Chloe doesn’t care. No way in hell is she getting burned again. On the bright side, she got a bit of a tan out of it. So, positives. 

Things go back to how they were before, with the two girls spending almost every minute outside. Whether they’re on the lake or hiking the many trails around them or simply playing board games on the deck. 

Chloe hadn’t realized how much time she spent inside until she was here. School, parties, playing D and D, those were all indoor activities. There hadn’t been much incentive to go outside ever since she lost her best playmate. 

Man, she really, really didn’t want this summer to end. 

////

Unfortunately, it does. Like all good things the summer comes to an end. It’s the second to last night that they get to spend in this glorious place. So, like most of the other nights, they spend it around a campfire. Max’s parents had long since gone to bed and Chloe and Max have long since taken to laying on their backs and looking up at the stars. 

More specifically, they’re stars; the constellations they made up like a secret handshake or password to a fort. The constellations that Chloe is more familiar with than the ‘actual’ constellations. 

Her favorite is the Pirate. Which, they found out later, is largely Orion, but they were little kids when they made these up and weren’t aware that other people had made constellations, too. The Pirate was the first one they saw up in the sky. No doubt due to the fact they had spent most of the day playing pirates and pretending to be the scourge of Arcadia Bay. Over time, they created stories to go along with their stars. And the one of the Pirate was that she was the most legendary and most feared pirate in her day. She sunk more ships than anyone before or after her, could drink more rum than anyone had ever seen, and preferred to fight with swords and daggers rather than pistols and muskets. Near her death she made a deal with a sea witch: that she would be forever remembered amongst the stars. When she finally died (in the glory of battle, obviously) the sea witch kept her promise and placed the Pirate amongst the stars. So much time had passed that people forgot the Pirate’s true name, but they never forgot her deeds. 

Yeah. That constellation had a special place in Chloe’s heart. 

“I do think the stars get lonely.” Max says so suddenly yet so quietly that Chloe whips her head to look at her. 

“What-” Chloe locks eyes with Max and all the words die in her throat. 

“When you called me, that first night you got drunk, I never got to answer your question.” Max says slowly, softly. “I think they do,” she licks her lips then looks back up at the stars, “because just because there are other stars out there, doesn’t mean you’re not lonely where you are. Sometimes everyone just feels so far away.” 

Suddenly Max isn’t talking about the stars anymore- maybe she never was- and Chloe finds herself with a lump in her throat. They’re shoulder to shoulder yet Chloe finds herself scooching closer to Max, lacing their fingers together. 

Both of them roll over to face each other at the exact same moment. Their faces are so close together. 

(Chloe’s heart is beating really, really fast)

Max’s eyes drift to Chloe’s lips about the same time Chloe’s drift to Max’s. She’s not sure which of them lean in first but they both jump back when they hear the snapping of a branch a few feet away. 

Fucking squirell. 

Chloe can’t decide if she’s grateful or angry

They go inside and go to bed without a word. 

////

Later that night, Chloe is still wide awake. What happened earlier by the campfire replays on a merciless loop in her mind. 

_ She almost kissed Max _ .

_And Max almost kissed her_.

(Chloe isn’t sure which one scares her more)

_ Fuck _ .

////

Sleep is clearly not a thing that is going to happen tonight. So she goes downstairs and pours herself a glass of milk.

It does nothing to calm her nerves. 

That’s when she remembers the liquor cabinet. 

It’s not that Chloe  _ can’t _ stay sober- she totally can- it’s just… she likes alcohol. Especially the way it makes her feel. She hadn’t felt the need to drink it lately because, frankly, she just didn’t have the time for it. Between hanging out with Max and being around Mr. and Mrs. Caulfield, there wasn’t much time for anything else. But, sooner or later Chloe began to crave alcohol. It’s been weeks since she’s had any and that’s the longest she’s gone in a pretty long time. 

So she snuck into the liquor cabinet and grabbed the bottle that was in the very back since it was the least likely to be noticed missing. It happened to be Vodka, which wasn’t Chloe’s favorite but she wasn’t about to be choosy. She took a few swigs. That’s all she meant to take. Just a few little swigs, then put the bottle back and go up to bed before Max noticed she was gone. 

It didn’t end up going like that, though. The liquid burned it’s way down Chloe’s throat in a way that was both comforting and familiar. Already, she felt a haze settling over her. The familiar haze that helped her forget everything she didn’t want to remember. 

Instead of thinking about the constellations in Max’s eyes, Chloe took another swig. 

And another. And another. 

////

Max finds her. Of course she does. Max always seems to find her when Chloe is in these situations.

Chloe half expects a lecture. At least if she’s given one it might distract from the throbbing of her skull. A lecture never comes. Or even a scolding. Max just holds her hair back as she pukes her guts out into the toilet. Then she helps Chloe up the stairs and into bed. 

Not her bed, though. Chloe collapses in the bottom bunk. Max gets into bed with her. The only way for them both to fit is to cuddle together. At first, Chloe is stiff; she’s still reeling from the events of earlier. (She still can’t decide if she  _ wanted _ Max to kiss her or not) 

She’s just so tired. 

So, so tired. 

////

She falls asleep to Max rubbing circles on her back. Chloe expects nightmares to come because nightmares always seem to come on nights like this. 

But they don’t. 

Instead she dreams of sunlight and stars and Max’s smile. 

(It’s the best dream she’s ever had)

////

The next morning they have a talk. Not about the almost kiss but about Chloe’s drinking. That talk turns into a fight. Which then turns into a heavy silence.

At least Max’s parents have the tact not to ask them about it. 

////

For the entire car ride back, Chloe keeps thinking of ways to apologize. As much as she hates to admit Max made some good points. But Chloe has never been good at apologizing- or anything really so she doesn’t say anything.

Neither does Max.

It’s the longest fucking car ride she’s ever had. 

//// 

They don’t talk for nearly a week. 

When they finally do they just ignore everything that happened those last two days of the trip.

That angers Chloe more than talking about it did. 

Ever since summer started it felt like they were living in a bubble. A wonderful, amazingly nice bubble where nothing bad could happen. It felt like they did when they were kids; it felt like before Chloe’s dad died. Now it felt like that bubble had popped and they were scrambling to try and go back to the way things were. 

Not talking about what happened was a way to do that, Chloe figured. 

(God, what she wouldn’t give to go back to that bubble)


	7. chapter six: i wish we could spend the night (underneath the moonlight)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aka: they miss who they used to be; chloe especially

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is from 'fire escape' by love,robot

Tonight was the night Chloe was finally going to The Mill.  _ The Mill _ . As in: the only place in this shitty town that has any good music. And she was going there. Tonight. 

She’s talking to Max but keeping her voice down. It’s late and she doesn’t want her to know that she plans on sneaking out. Though, Joyce probably already knows. Chloe, despite her best efforts, isn’t the best at keeping secrets. Joyce probably knows Chloe plans on sneaking out tonight to see Firewalk at the old Mill. Does it count as sneaking out if your parents know? Chloe still counts it since she still sneaks out the window. 

“Do you think the studs are too much?” Chloe asks Max over Skype. It’s only a week into the school year and Chloe’s mom already lectured her about making sure to keep her grades up yet Chloe could not pass this up. Not when it was Firewalk playing. 

_ “For a punk show? I think you don’t have enough, honestly _ .”

“Yeah, but punks these days aren’t dressing in the stereotypical battle jackets like they did in the eighties.” Chloe replied, nervously adjusting her studded bracelet. 

_ “If anyone gives you shit just punch ‘em. That’s punk, right?” _

“Is  _ the _ Max Caulfield advocating violence? I never thought I’d live to see the day.” Chloe feigns fanning herself and Max rolls her eyes. 

_ “Shut up nerd.” _

“I think you’re the nerd. I mean, c’mon school’s barely started and you’re already doing homework.”

_ “Not all of us have time for parties.” _ It’s meant to be a joke. It is. Chloe  _ knows _ it is. However, with the conversation at the cabin, with Chloe’s drunken mess, still so fresh in both of their minds, it doesn’t come off that way. 

There’s an awkward pause which Chloe tries (and fails) to end with a joke of her own. “And you made time for little ol’ me? I’m touched.” 

Max’s face fell; her voice grew serious.  _ “I will  _ always  _ make time for you, Chloe. I promise.” _

This got to Chloe more than she wanted it too. She wiped away the tears she knew were coming. 

“Thanks Max,” Chloe choked out, “That means a lot. I- I uh gotta get going. Talk later, yeah?”

Chloe closed her laptop before Max could reply.

////

She felt a little out of her element in The Mill. It wasn’t like all the other parties Chloe has been too. Those were held at some teenager’s house when their parents were out of town and filled with other teenagers. The Mill was like… an actual adult place. Everyone here was at least twenty five, covered in tattoos, and Chloe was pretty sure she saw someone doing meth in the corner. 

So yeah. 

Not a high school party at all. 

Chloe pushed her way through the crowd. Or, she tried to. Some jackass with a bad face tattoo was in her way.

“Uh, excuse me?” She says in a voice that is less polite and more ‘get the fuck out of my way’. She puncuates her point by holding out her arms, making herself wide open and daring him to make any sort of movie. 

Bad Face Tat gives her a once over and sneers. “What the fuck do you want?”

“A dragon, a motorcycle, for you to move the fuck over, oh! And a pony.” Chloe counts the list off on her fingers. 

“Fat chance, kid.”

“Seriously? Who the hell says fat chance? Now get out of my way-”

Chloe tries to shove past him but he moves so he’s in her way again. He growls. Honest to Christ  _ growls _ .

“What is your problem?” She questions.

“My problem,” he spits on the ground, barely missing Chloe’s sneakers, “is that stupid punk bitches like you just waltz in here and expect everyone to wait on them hand and foot.”

“I literally just asked you to move out of the way but, yeah. Go ahead and get your little panties in a bunch.” 

He growls again and Chloe decides she is done wasting her time on him and his terrible face tattoo. 

////

Eventually she manages to find a way around him by going up a rickety staircase that has a 78% chance of collapsing under Chloe’s weight. 

For a while she just lays on the old wood and lets the music thrum in her bones. 

Then, like pretty much everything else in Chloe’s life lately, it all goes to shit. 

Bad Face Tat returns with a buddy of his. Both of them are wearing sneers on their faces. 

“What the fuck do you want?” Chlow asks in as smooth a voice as possible. She gets up and takes a couple steps away from the ledge that she was dangling her legs over. 

“I wanted a proper apology for earlier. This is my favorite shirt.” He gestures to his tank top covered in grease and old beer stains. Probably other stuff, too, if they did a blacklight test. 

“Get lost.” Chloe replied. She tried to shove past him- Firewalk is taking a break anyways- but he gets up in her face. 

This is going to get very ugly very fast. He’s blocking the only exit so the only way out of this one is to fight her way through. She’s never been in a real fight before. Looks like tonight is gonna change that.

Then, all of a sudden, a beer bottle is being thrown and someone is yelling “Hey! Dickhead!” at the top of their lungs. Both of the dudes are distracted for just a second. Chloe makes a fist and a choice she’ll probably regret later. Her knuckles connect with Bad Face Tat’s nose. He reels back, blood spurting from his nose. Chloe’s hand throbs. God damn it the movies make punching someone look so easy. She looks behind the two dudes at whoever yelled and threw that bottle. It was none other than the princess of Blackwell herself: Rachel freaking Amber. 

Due to her distraction, Bad Face Tat’s friend managed to clock her in the jaw. Rachel kicked him in his knee, causing him to buckle, then grabbed Chloe’s had and led her back down the stairs. Chloe thought they were going to run outside, away from the craziness. Instead they ran into the middle of the dancefloor just in time for Firewalk to begin the second half of their set. 

Rachel says something to her and Chloe yells out a “what?!” in response. Chloe’s head feels like Jell-O. It’s a good feeling. 

Thinking is overrated anyways.

Rachel laughs, grabs Chloe’s hand, and takes her further into the dance floor. Whatever song is playing Chloe can’t make out the words. Rather, she feels the rhythm coursing through her like the blood in her veins. 

They dance. 

And dance.

And dance some more. 

And Chloe throws up on Rachel’s shoes. 

She thinks Rachel is going to be mad. After all, it's not good manners to throw up on someone's shoes. But she’s not mad. Or even grossed out. 

Rachel, in true Rachel fashion, just laughs and tugs Chloe into the bathroom to wash themselves off..

////

Chloe doesn’t remember the walk home. She doesn’t remember sneaking into her own house. She certainly doesn’t remember Rachel helping her get changed. She does remember Rachel leaving her a glass of water and some aspirin by her bed. 

“You’re gonna feel like shit in the morning.” Rachel tells Chloe because Rachel never lies. 

(She likes that about her. Rachel is  _ real _ )

////

True to Rachel’s word, Chloe  _ does _ feel like shit in the morning. Apparently drinking every type of alcohol imaginable isn’t great for the body. Even if it does wonders for the mind.

Rachel left a post in note on Chloe’s desk with her phone number on it. 

Chloe plugs into her phone and texts Rachel something along the lines of ‘thank you’.

She should text Max but she doesn’t.

(She’s not sure why)

////

Chloe knows Rachel Amber in the same way that everyone at Blackwell knew Rachel Amber. The perfect girl, the model student, the best Arcadia Bay has to offer. Which is ironic because Rachel isn’t even from Arcadia. 

She’s seen her at parties but that was just a slightly grungier version of Rachel. Ripped flannel, ripped jeans, smudged makeup. The Rachel from the punk show was… well full on punk. Right down to the ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude. The thing that everyone seemed to know about Rachel was that she did indeed give a fuck. About her grades, her extracurriculars, her family. About everything. Despite the fact that she frequented parties almost as much as Chloe did, it was obvious Rachel cared very much about things other than partying.

Maybe Chloe could learn a thing or two from her. 

////

After that, Rachel and her begin hanging out more. It starts off slow. 

The next morning, after the party, Chloe barely takes two steps onto campus before Rachel is bursting out of thin air, exclaiming excitedly ‘Good, you’re here!’ like she’s been waiting for Chloe to show up, then grabbing her hand much in the same way she didn’t not twelve hours earlier, and leading her into the school. 

Rachel ends up leading her to the drama room. A fact made obvious by the comedy and tragedy masks poster hanging on the door. Inside several kids are there, Steph included, and they’re all talking quietly in small groups. Chloe hasn’t been inside this room before, only peeked through the door when Steph was running late from rehearsals. The girl was on stage crew and from the way she heard people talk, being groomed to take over as stage manager when the current one graduated this year. 

If Steph is surprised by Rachel and Chloe holding hands and being in the same space, she doesn’t show it. 

Rachel begins talking animatedly about the play they’re doing- The Tempest, they’ve decided- and how auditions are in a few days and she’s kind of nervous about them. This Rachel, the bubbly, preppy, wearing khaki pants Rachel is so different from the Rachel of last night. The punk, crass, wearing fingerless gloves and leather pants Rachel feels like a million miles away.

It shouldn’t be so startling. Really, it shouldn’t. Chloe has seen Rachel at parties- drinking shot after shot, wearing ripped clothing it looks like she fished out of a dumpster- and she has seen Rachel at school, looking like the poster child of preppiness. 

So why was Chloe so shocked? So fascinated?

////

Rachel helped Chloe cover up the bruise on her jaw with make up from the drama department. Steph gave Rachel a half hearted glare and told her ‘not to use too much, we’re not made of money here Amber’, which just made all three of them laugh. 

“Do all you drama nerds have to learn how to do this?” Chloe asked. 

“Sort of. We all learn how to do the basics of everything.” Rachel’s face is close enough to Chloe’s that her breath tickles. “There’s only so many crew members and they’re too busy making sure the set doesn’t fall apart to worry too much about makeup. They do their best but they can only do so much.”

Chloe gives a dry chuckle. “Yeah, that seems to be a theme in my life these days.”

Rachel moves back a bit to look at her. For a second it looks like she’s just admiring her own handiwork. Then Chloe notices how her eyes are scanning Chloe’s face for… something. Before Chloe can ask Rachel what the look was about the other girl is holding up a small mirror. 

“What do you think?” 

“It looks like nothing happened.” Chloe replies and it’s true. Her face looks like her face. No painful bruises marring her skin. “Get into a lot of fights?” The question is meant to be rhetorical but Rachel shrugs.

“A couple. Can’t exactly come home to my DA dad with a face full of bruises.” 

Rachel seems like the kind of person that could sweet talk her way out of a fight. Or be smart enough to avoid them altogether. Though, given the way she handled herself last night- throwing that beer bottle and kicking that guy in the knees- made Chloe rethink that assumption. 

“Cool. Any tips for beginners?”

“Punching someone looks cool but if you don’t know how to throw a proper punch you mess up your hand,” Rachel taps her finger gently on the bruise on Chloe’s left hand, “Do an open palm. Just as effective without hurting yourself.”

“Thanks. I’ll- I’ll remember that for next time.”

Rachel traces a pattern on Chloe’s hand. “Good. Now come one, we don’t want to be late for first period.”

////

Now Chloe’s morning routine includes stopping by the drama room before school starts to watch morning rehearsal. Rachel got the part of Prospero who is a badass wizard dude. Not that Chloe read  _ The Tempest _ cover to cover in one night. Or read the sparknotes because she didn’t understand what the fuck was going on. No, not at all. No siree. 

Parties are almost exclusively something she does with Rachel. 

It’s weird. Sort of. People expect her to show up and when she doesn’t she’s missed. 

_ MIssed _ . Who would have thought. 

////

Chloe tells Rachel about Max. Because, well, it’s impossible not too. Not when her and Rachel are spending so much time together. 

Rachel even joins in on a Skype call between her and Max. Max seems to like Rachel and Rachel seems to like Max. The two end up talking about art and photography- apparently Rachel is really into photography almost as much as Max- and Chloe feels something like pride settle into her chest. 

////

“Pray, young maiden, do you believe that true love exists?” Mr. Keaton asks Chloe as soon as she steps into the drama room. 

It’s a heavy question to be asked, much more so at eight am when Chloe isn’t even fully awake yet. Especially not since it’s only the second week of school. 

Mr. Keaton is looking at her with his big, expressive eyes. 

“Um,” She says gracefully. She thinks of those summer nights they spent together by the lake. The warmth she felt, not from the sun or the campfire, but from having Max at her side. She thinks of days spent in her backyard playing pirates. She thinks about a million things, all of them ultimately  _ Max _ . 

“Yeah, I do.” Chloe replies finally, meaning every single word. 

Rachel looks at her like she’s planning something. 

////

_ The Tempest _ gets more attention that Chloe thought it would. Blackwell, while it has arts programs, has been historically more focused on the sciences. Maybe that’s why the play is getting so much attention- the school is trying to branch out. 

Despite arriving nearly an hour early plenty of people are milling about. Most of them Chloe recognizes as being cast and crew. A couple are over eager parents and friends who came to support their loved ones. 

Chloe sneaks behind the stage and is met with a rush of energy. People are bristling from place to place, setting up props, doing last minute repairs on costumes, practicing lines, or just trying to keep their nerves down. As always, Rachel is at the center of it all, running a scene with that Julia (Juliet?) girl. Both of their costumes look ridiculous- though, that was mostly due to the fact they were made out of spandex, not because Steph did a bad job designing them- yet they move so naturally in them.

She has seen rehearsals before. In fact, it feels like these last few months have been nothing  _ but _ rehearsals. This time, though, feels different. Suddenly everything about their performance seems much more real. Rachel didn’t notice Chloe and Chloe was fine with that. She leaned up against one of the makeshift walls and watched as Rachel did what she did best. 

“Price, if you’re done doing nothing I could use some help putting more sand on the stage.” Steph interrupts, putting a grocery bag filled with sand into Chloe’s hand.

“What the hell did you guys do? Steal sand from the beach?”

“It’s not stealing if no one wants it. Now hurry up I have about thirty other things to do and not enough time to do them.”

////

The play is great. A lot better than Chloe was expecting. Everyone involved- not just Racel- has put their entire heart and soul into making the play a success. At the end, Chloe finds herself on her feet, clapping her hands and hard as she can.

Rachel takes her bow and when her head comes back up her eyes find Chloe’s instantly. 

They share a look and Chloe isn’t quite sure what it means. 

////

It’s late when Rachel is finally done. Chloe doesn’t mind, though. She kept herself busy helping Steph and the other stage crew put props away and take down the set for the night while Rachel met up with her parents and changed back into her regular clothes. 

Finally, she’s ready. Most of the drama kids head to Denny’s for their post-show celebration- Rachel informs Chloe that it’s a tradition- before declining the invitation. Chloe is grateful. The drama kids are okay but, well, they’re pretty dramatic. She’s not sure she could handle hanging out with them any more than she already has. 

Steph gives her a weird look as her and Rachel start walking home. 

////

“Do you want to leave Arcadia Bay?” Rachel asks. The question is a sudden turn from their previous conversation about the best sci-fi movies. 

“I mean, yeah. Someday, I guess.” Chloe kicks at a soda can, hands shoved in pockets.

“But not right now?” Rachel seems disappointed in her answer.

“Not right now.” 

Chloe’s mind flashes to Max, to a million different yet exactly the same moments, all of them boiling down to her and Max being happy together. It feels so close yet so far away. 

“Why not?” Rachel doesn’t sound like a child not getting what they want but she’s close to it. 

“Because-” Chloe falters over her own words, “Because Max is gonna come back to Arcadia. She’s gonna go to Blackwell and we’re gonna graduate together and I can’t just  _ leave _ .” This isn’t exactly true. Her and Max have talked about their future plans and this would be an ideal but there really wasn’t any concrete plan in motion. It’s all just wishful thinking. 

This answer doesn’t satisfy Rachel- hardly anything satisfies her. Still, she doesn’t respond to Chloe. At least not with words. She kicks a stone in her path, shoves her hands in her pockets, and looks up at the stars. Chloe wonders if Rachel has her own constellations, too; she wonders what they look like. 

They don’t say anything to each other the rest of the night. Not even when they reach Rachel’s house. Chloe just watches Rachel get inside without a word. 

Like a fucking creep, Chloe just stands in front of Rachel’s house. Hands shoved in the pockets of her jeans, huffing out puffs of air, watching and waiting for nothing. She only leaves when she sees the light turn off in Rachel’s bedroom. 

(God, why were they so fucked up?)

_____

Sophomore year starts much in the same way Freshman year did: boring and uneventful. 

At least this year she doesn’t get lost. 

Even if that’s what she feels.

Honestly, Max is still reeling from the summer break. How it started off so wonderfully and ended so cruelly. 

It kind of feels like last summer. So wonderfully great until it wasn’t. 

Max’s hands clenched into fists, her pencil almost snaps in her grip. She’s long since zoned out on whatever the hell her teacher was talking about. The syllabus in front of her covered in doodles. Mostly spirals and little tornados. 

////

Max isn’t being fair and she’s well aware of it.

Chloe is telling her everything about what’s going on in her life. The parties, hanging out with Rachel, the play with Rachel, hell even the details of the D and D campaigns she’s doing with Steph and Mikey. 

And Max hardly tells Chloe anything. Mostly, she justifies to herself, because she’s not doing anything interesting. Outside of walking around the city taking photos, there’s really not much going on in her life. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t have thoughts or ideas or that she doesn’t watch some really cool films or is stressed about school. She does. It’s just, everything in her life seems so boring compared to Chloe’s.

Besides Chloe has Rachel now. It feels like pretty soon she won’t want Max around anyway.

////

People picking on Max is nothing new. Back in Arcadia bullies laid off Max pretty quick because Chloe was there to defend her. In Seattle Chloe wasn’t there. Max was on her own. 

Which is why it comes at such a surprise when a girl in her Latin class invites her to a party. 

It surprises her even more when the girl knows her name. 

////

Parties have never been Max’s thing. Alcohol, too. The only reason she participated in those wine tastings they did was because Chloe wanted her too. 

She went to the party anyways. Chloe always seemed to have fun at them so she figured maybe she would too.

Seven seconds into the party Max could tell that wasn’t going to be the case. 

Before she could leave as quietly as she came in the girl who invited her grabbed her hand and led her to the kitchen. An unopened beer can was shoved into her palm. 

It was cold so Max thought it was going to be refreshing.

Max took a sip and nearly spit it out. She held onto it, though, if only to keep other people from shoving more terrible drinks in her hand. 

The night is long. All Max can think about is being home in her room, watching an old sci-fi movie on Netflix. 

Finally, after a painful hour, Max manages to slip out of the house, away from the blaring music and drunk teenagers. 

Stepping out into the quiet streets feels like jumping into a cold pool on a hot day: refreshing, if a bit shocking. 

A few blocks away she realizes she still has the can of beer in her hands. It had long since gone warm and holding onto it was no longer a necessity. So Max chucked it in a trash can in front of a stranger’s house and made her way back home. With any luck her parents would still be at their business dinner so she could slip into the house undetected. 

Of course, Max wasn’t so lucky. They had gotten home early. Judging by the way her mom’s heels had been carelessly shucked off and her dad’s suit coat draped haphazardly over one of the dining room chairs they had only been home a few minutes. 

They saw Max through their slightly tipsy haze, so clearly dressed from a party. She probably reeked of alcohol, too. Before she could even explain herself they grounded her. Though, they just forbid her from going to any more parties or social outings with friends for a month. Max didn’t have any friends and she sure as hell didn’t want to go to another party so, really, it wasn’t like anything really changed. 

Back up in her room, laying on her bed, she can’t help but think why they didn’t take away the one thing that truly mattered: talking with Chloe. Had they just not thought about? Did they think such a punishment was too cruel? Or, and Max dreaded this one, did they overhear what happened that last week at the cabin? When Chloe broke into the wine cabinet and puked all over the bathroom? 

Max kept running through possibilities, of things to say to her parents if/when they confronted her about it, until she was finally pulled into a restless sleep. 

////

“Hey, Max!” Max tenses. Usually when people at school call her name it’s nothing good. She relaxes just a little when she realizes it was Stevie who called her name- the girl who invited her to the party last night.

The other girl is a little out of breath by the time she catches up to Max at her locker. “You left the party early, everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Max lied, “I was just tired, I guess.” Tired of the constant bullshit that was her life now, but Stevie didn’t need to know that. 

The older girl adjusts the thick frames of the glasses she doesn’t need. “No prob, life is shit sometimes- I get it. Anyways, there’s another party this weekend. I can give you details, if you’re interested.”

Stevie could have been Max’s friend. Despite having had only one and a half conversations, Max knew that she and Stevie could have ended up being friends. The older girl- a junior, Max discovers early on- is an art nerd, too. Paintings mostly, thought she does dabble in photography. Stevie just has this unique way of looking at the world that Max finds fascinating. But Stevie is also a partier which Max is definitely not. So they’re not really friends. Not in this timeline, anyways. 

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Max tells her. 

Stevie looks a little disappointed but not surprised. 

“See you around, Max.” Stevie replies with a mock salute. 

////

Rachel is… something. That’s for sure. Max isn’t sure how to put it. She’s not like Chloe- there’s an air of mystery that keeps you on your toes that Chloe lacks. At least to Max. Maybe how she views Rachel is how others view Chloe. 

Still, the fact that Rachel is undescribable is definitely part of her appeal. Max can see instantly why Chloe is so drawn to her. 

They look happy, Max decides. Even through the grainy quality of the video Max can tell Chloe looks just as bright as she was at the cabin that summer. It makes her heart feel light and heavy all at the same time. 

When they talk, Max finds herself fiddling with the ring on the necklace around her neck. As if to remind herself that Chloe hasn’t left her behind; to reassure herself that Rachel is not her replacement. 

////

When Chloe tells Max about the new hideout Rachel and her have it takes all Max has not to cry right in that moment. 

Because having a secret hideout was something that they’ve always talked about having. Minutes before they found out William died they were planning on going to the beach, right near the lighthouse, and make a little getaway for themselves. 

For obvious reasons that plan fell through.

So hearing Chloe fulfill that with someone else, someone  _ new _ \- no matter how magmatic that person was- well, it  _ hurt _ . 

Max waited until she could hang up with Chloe to scream into her pillow. Screams that turned into cries. Cries that turned into sobs. Sobs that eventually turned into a restless sleep.

She really missed her best friend.


	8. chapter seven: i can finally see you’re as fucked up as me (so how do we win?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aka: things hit their breaking point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from 'sick of losing soulmates' by dodie

The Junkyard has become their own little place. A hideout. The kind of place Chloe wished she could have with Max. It’s become their home away from home. 

To most people it doesn’t look like much- rusted junk everywhere, broken stuff littering every other step, old cars piled up in haphazard ways. To Chloe, the place is like Disneyland. There’s something comforting about making a home amongst the things other people have forgotten or thrown out. 

Over the last several months that they’ve taken up semi-permenant residence here, Chloe has found little objects to tinker with and try to fix. She found an old camera a month ago, hidden in a box of other junk, that Chloe tried to fix up for Max’s birthday. In the end she couldn’t get it to work but still sent it up to Max anyway. Freshly polished, of course. 

Her new project is fixing up an old truck. It’s the only car not hidden under piles of scrap metal and with most of its parts still in tact. Besides, even if it may be a lost cause, fixing cars was something her and her dad used to to together all the time. Fixing up the truck- no matter how hopeless it is- makes Chloe feel like her dad isn’t really gone. It makes her feel like he’s still here. Like maybe things will be okay after all. 

Rachel is there, too, handing Chloe tools from William’s tool box that Chloe saved from her mom throwing out. Chloe’s hands are covered in grease and grime and Rachel’s palms are scraped from helping Chloe put the new battery in. Though Rachel is less focused on helping Choe and more focused on… well, whatever her mind wanders to these days. 

She’s looking up at the sky. At the birds flying through the air. 

“We should leave.” Rachel says suddenly. 

Chloe tightens a bolt, wrench nearly slipping from her fingers. “Give me twenty more minutes. I think I’ve almost got this-”

“No. I meant leave Arcadia. We should do it. We should  _ go _ .” 

They’ve talked about this once before. About leaving Arcadia behind. Rachel was far more invested in the idea than Chloe was. Because Chloe felt like she  _ couldn’t _ leave; like she was waiting for Max to come back home. To come back to  _ her _ . 

“Rachel,” Chloe sighs, setting the wrench back in the tool box, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Rachel huffs, telling Chloe that there is definitely something going on. “I just want to leave. Leave all the bullshit behind.”

“What bullshit, exactly?” Chloe asks carefully. She wipes her hand on a rag, leaning back on the truck so their shoulders are touching. 

Rachel looks around them now, at the Junkyard. “Just… all of it.” She says in a voice that’s so quiet and so sad. 

“Did… did something happen with your parents, Rachel?” Chloe had only met them a couple times but Rachel talked about them a lot. She knew that Rachel loved them and that they loved her. They were close in a way that wasn’t too off from Chloe and William. If something happened… that would definitely be cause to upset Rachel.

“No.” Rachel is lying and Chloe wants so bad to call her out on it. But she can also tell that Rachel is hurting too much for Chloe and her scathing honesty. “Maybe.” Rachel amends. She sounds on the verge of tears. 

“What happened?”

“Nothing. Yet. At least nothing that I can prove.”

“Rachel, what’s that supposed to mea-”

“I think my dad is cheating on my mom.” Rachel says and everything around them goes still. Like time is frozen around them.

“What?” 

“Please don’t make me say it again.” It’s not like Rachel to beg. 

“Okay,” Chloe sucks in a deep breath and crosses her arms, “Uh, what makes you think that?” Rachel, for all her impulsiveness, is not one to jump to conclusions. Especially not conclusions like  _ that _ . 

“He’s been wiping his computer history, he’s gotten letters from a woman I don’t know, and he’s just been acting so fucking  _ shady _ these last few weeks. Maybe even longer but I’ve just started to notice it. At first I thought he was nervous because of the upcoming election- he always gets nervous about that- but… I don’t know. These nerves aren’t like that.”

“How can I help?” 

“I don’t know!” Rachel snaps. She immediately apologizes for the outburst. “I’m sorry. I- I just don’t know what to do.”

“Whatever you decide, I’m here.” Chloe promised. If it was Max she was comforting she would have cemented that promise by grabbing her hand and holding it tight. But Rachel was not Max and Chloe did not know how to comfort her. 

So, instead, they stood there, looking up at the sky and wondering what it would be like to be a bird and fly far, far away from all their troubles. 

////

Of all Chloe’s faults, she thinks her worst one is that she doesn't know how to deal with her emotions.  _ Really _ deal with them. She’s all too content with shoving all her feelings as deep as they will go drown them in alcohol and loud music and whatever else will make the pain stop. 

That’s why she goes to parties. Or, at least, that’s why she goes to so many of them. 

To drown her emotions; to forget what she’s feeling.

Lately she’s been feeling a lot of it.

It’s been a little over a year since her dad died and she hasn’t moved on from it. Every day she thinks about him. Almost every night she dreams of him. That end-of-summer mess, which her and Max haven’t talked about, is still looming over head, too. Then there’s whatever the hell is going on with Rachel.

Which Rachel won’t talk about. Or even drop hints about. But Chloe knows  _ something _ is wrong. Rachel has skipped class a few times, gotten less than stellar grades, and her mind is always  _ somewhere _ else. It’s so unlike the Rachel that Chloe has come to know.

So instead of actually dealing with any of their feelings they’re at a party drowning them away with alcohol. 

Chloe is about three shots and two beers in when she picks a fight. Honestly, she’s not sure why she does it. The only times she’s been in fights it was because she was provoked. She never felt the need to pick one herself. Until tonight, that is. 

Some guy she doesn’t know shoves her. Remembering the advice Rachel gave her, she palm heels him in the nose. Hard. He reels back so Chloe takes this opportunity to sock him in the face a few times. Though, he is  _ way _ bigger than she is and it isn’t surprising that he ends up gaining the upper hand. He punches her in the face, stomach, and then once she’s one the floor he gives her a couple kicks to her ribs. If it wasn’t for the alcohol numbing her senses she’s been out of her mind with pain. Chloe barely registers Rachel coming to her rescue, scratching the hell out of the guy’s eyes with her recently manicured nails, and giving him a swift kick to his balls. 

Rachel helps Chloe home. 

Helps her clean up her wounds and ice her bruises. They accidentally wake up Joyce, who is far too concerned about her daughter’s bruises to be too angry on how she got them. 

////

Chloe tries to sleep but can’t. She calls Max instead. 

Max’s words echo in her skull.

_ It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault. _

(Oh, how she wished she could believe her)

////

Later, she calls Max again. 

Max ends the call with a joke that wasn’t meant to hurt but ended up stinging anyway. Maybe it was a little unfair to be so curt to Max after that. Maybe it was even more unfair to ignore Max’s call later that day.

After all, Max did have a point. She’d been focused too much on partying and forgetting that her grades were beginning to suffer. Not to mention that Steph and Mikey were beginning to distance themselves from her, too. She didn’t blame them. Who wants to hang out with someone when all they do is fuck up everything around them?

Chloe punches the wall in her anger. All that gets her is more blood and bruises. 

Fucking perfect.

_____

There’s a photo that Max keeps in her wallet. Most of the time, that photo is the only reason she carries around her wallet at all. She hardly ever has any cash of her own to spend. So the wallet is more for carrying photographs than currency. Max likes it that way. 

The photo is a polaroid, as most of her photos are, capturing Chloe in a rare moment of complete, unabashed happiness. Over the summer, it had started raining suddenly when she and Chloe were on a walk. A hot, light rain that soaked their bones in the best way. So unlike the usual cold showers they were used to growing up in Oregon. Chloe, so overcome with happiness and delight, starting dancing in the middle of this rainstorm. Dancing like she didn’t have a care in the world.

Max was so overcome that she couldn’t join in. Instead, all she could do was raise the camera and snap a picture. 

She had always hated the phrase ‘a picture is worth a thousand words’. It felt too cliche, to overdone.

Looking at that photo, though, Max starts to see the appeal of that phrase.

////

Having her phone ring in the middle of the night was becoming a pretty common occurrence. Sometimes Chloe would call her after a nightmare, or after a party when she was too buzzed to sleep, or when Chloe was so drunk she could barely speak but was missing her dad and missing Max so terribly she couldn’t stop thinking about either. 

Max reaches blindly over to her nightstand, grabs her phone, and holds it to her ear. 

“Chloe, what’s up?”

There’s some rustling, like she’s adjusting the blankets. Then the distinct sound that she’s trying to cover up cries of pain.

Max sits up, adrenaline running through her. “Chloe, Chloe, tell me what happened.”

_ “I picked a fight with some ASSHOLE. Kicked his ass though…. Well…. He kicked mine too.” _ She;s laughing now, like a maniac. 

“Chloe,” Max pinched the bridge of her nose, shifting from concerned to borderline disappointed, “Why’d you pick a fight with him?”

_ “He SHOVED me so I had to kick his ass.” _

“But lots of people shove you and you didn’t get into fights with them.”

Silence. 

“Chloe?”

_ “I guess,” Chloe hiccuped, “I guess … I’m just… angry.” _

A stone drops in Max’s chest. “Angry at what?”

_ “Everything. I’m- I’m sorry.” _

“Chloe it’s not your faul-”

Chloe hangs up before Max can finish her sentence. 

////

Max can’t get back to sleep. She keeps thinking of Chloe, face and body bruised, shaking with pain. It’s not a good image. Nor is it one she can get out of her mind. So she laces up her shoes and sneaks out of the house and into the chilly autumn air.

She’s worried about Chloe. That much she can admit to herself. She’s been worried about Chloe ever since she had to leave her behind. And that worry only grew when Max saw Chloe breaking into her parent’s liquor cabinet over the summer and puking her guts out while they slept. Max has always been there for Chloe. Always tried to be, anyway. The only comparison that Max could come up with was that Chloe was like a tornado: coming out of nowhere, wily, unpredictable, then just  _ gone _ not long after it arrived.

Max finds a small lot behind some houses, one that’s dotted with weeds and large rocks. She climbs on top the biggest rock she can find and watches the sun rise. The lot reminds her a little of the beach near the lighthouse. Sandy, deserted, full of space. Max closes her eyes and nearly hears the echoes of laughter from her and Chloe younger selves, can almost feel the bark of a stick she’s using as a sword beneath her palm, can almost taste the mist of salt water as they play in the early morning haze. Then Max opens her eyes and all those memories disappear. She is here, alone in Seattle while Chloe is there, alone in Arcadia Bay. Those carefree days they had as kids felt like they happened a thousand years ago. 

Her phone rings, startling her out of whatever thought track she was in. Chloe’s name flashes across the screen. 

_ “Are we okay?”  _ Are the first words out of Chloe’s mouth.

“What do you mean?” 

_ “I just… I remember calling you earlier. But not really. I guess I just remember hanging up on you.”  _

“Oh.” Max says. She bites her lip. Should she tell Chloe to details? It doesn’t really seem worth it. 

_ “You…”  _ Chloe sighed like she can’t decide on what to say either.  _ “You feel so far away.” _ Chloe takes a deep breath.  _ “And I don’t want to lose you. Fuck, Max, I  _ can’t _ lose you.” _

“You’re not going to lose me.” Max states. “I  _ promise _ Chloe.” 

Chloe sniffles and Max wants so desperately to be at Chloe’s side. To comfort her and hold her close and never let anything bad happen to her ever again. 

_ “You do?” _

“I do.” Saying the words sent butterflies to Max’s stomach. Her mind flashes to a not-so-distant future. Of Chloe in a suit, herself in a dress. Of flowers and friends and  _ love _ .

She immediately shoves these thoughts down, down,  _ down _ . This was neither the time nor place for these thoughts. 

(There would  _ never _ be a time or place for those thoughts. Chloe deserve someone better than Max)

_ “Thanks, Max. I- I appreciate it.” _ Chloe’s voice sounds a little lighter now. 

“Anytime, Chloe.”

_ “I, uh, I should get going. I have a lot of homework to catch up on.” _

“Going out to parties doesn’t exactly leave a lot of time for studying, huh?” It was meant to be a joke. A stupid joke, yes, but still a joke. It just didn’t land right and Max regretted it as soon as she said it out loud.

_ “Right. Bye Max.” _

The click that came with Chloe hanging up felt harsher than usual.

Max spent a few more hours sitting on that dumb rock feeling like she completely fucked everything up.  _ Again _ . 

////

She tries calling Chloe later that afternoon but Chloe doesn’t answer. 

Everything between them lately has felt like one step forward, a million steps back.

Max fucking hates it.


	9. chapter eight: if you’re still breathing you’re the lucky ones (‘cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aka: shit goes down with Rachel’s family. Chloe calls Max with apologies and promises that, this time, she is intent on keeping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from 'youth' by daughter

Rachel takes a long drag of her cigarette. She’s been smoking a lot more in recent weeks. Way more than even Chloe does. 

“He’s meeting with her tomorrow. Will you come with me?” Rachel doesn’t have to elaborate for Chloe to know who she’s talking about. 

“Of course.” Chloe replies without hesitation.

////

They meet up at school the next morning before sneaking off campus. Chloe feels bad about lying to her mom but she also knows that she wouldn’t be able to explain what she was really doing today. 

Sneaking off campus is stupid easy. In no time they’re hopping a train. Rachel still hasn’t told them exactly where they’re going. Really, though, it doesn’t matter. 

Chloe has only known Rachel a couple months- barely- and despite that she can tell the other girl is deeply worried about what they’re going to find whenever they get where they’re going. Rachel tries to distract herself with two truths and a lie. It’s a game she’s never played before and one that Rachel is creepily good at. They play three rounds before it’s time for them to get off. 

////

James Amber gave Chloe bad vibes, like most people in authority did, but she found herself hoping that they wouldn’t see him today. That just this once Rachel’s intuition was wrong and James wasn’t a cheating scumbag.

The universe being the universe, however, that was not the case. 

There was a woman in a white dress, underneath a shady oak tree. The woman looked like she just came from a funeral or was going to one. Not because of her dress but because of her demeanor. She seemed deeply sad in a way that made Chloe’s chest ache. 

Then James arrived and they kissed and Chloe could only watch it for a moment before she turned to look at Rachel. 

People think that Rachel is this perfect person. Maybe to the outside observer that’s true. But Chloe knows better. Rachel is an actress, yes, but that doesn’t mean she can cover up her emotions perfectly all the time. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. The girl wears her heart on her sleeve- most people just can’t pick up her cues. 

Rachel’s nostrils flare just the slightest bit, her lips purse, and her eyes narrow ever so slightly. 

Rachel is fucking  _ furious _ .

////

Rachel hasn’t said anything since they saw James kiss that woman underneath the tree. 

It’s a silence that Chloe isn’t accustomed too. Nor is it one she enjoys. 

The two of them end up at the Junkyard. They discovered it about a month ago when they were a little buzzed from a party and began wandering around the nearby area. They’ve come back a couple of times since then, mostly because no one ever seems to come here. It’s their own little hideout. 

Without a word, Rachel sits on a cinderblock, back facing Chloe. 

“You, um, you wanna talk about it?” Chloe asks even though it’s a stupid idea.

Rachel scoffs, pointedly not responding.

“Oookkkayyy then.” Chloe replies. She digs around in one of the nearby piles of garbage and finds a baseball bat. It feels heavy and good in her hands. 

After doing a couple practice swings, she hands it to Rachel. 

“What’s this for?” Rachel looks at the bat like it just spit on her puppy.

“When I get angry I find it helps to hit stuff.” Chloe says with a shrug.

Rachel stands up, yanks the bat out of Chloe’s hands, and throws it with impressive force. 

“I hate to break it to you, Chloe, but I’m not you.” Rachel replies with venom dripping from every word. It’s unsettling, seeing her so angry. “Hitting shit with a bat won’t make me feel better. You wanna know why?” She’s in Chloe’s face now, finger jamming into her sternum. “Because my fucking dad is cheating on my fucking mom!  _ Nothing  _ is going to make me feel better!”

With that Rachel turns on her heel and leaves. 

Watching her go Chloe is reminded of the day of her dad’s funeral. The day that Max left her. Seeing Rachel leave reminds her of watching Max drive off in that fucking stupid hatchback. So she does something in that moment that she wasn’t able to do a year ago.

She asks Rachel to stay.

“Rachel, don’t go!”

“Why not?” Rachel stops in her tracks, furious.

“Because- becauseI don’t want to fuck up this like I fuck up everything esle in my life.” The words tumble out of Chloe’s mouth before she can stop them.

Rachel’s eyes go wide. “And what is this, exactly?”

“A friendship.” Chloe replies instantly. There’s something unreadable in Rachel’s eyes, some shift in expression that Chloe can’t decipher. “I’m really shit at making new ones- most of my life I had just one. But there’s something going on between us Rachel, and I know that whatever it is it’s really special.” 

“A friendship.” Rachel echoes, quietly to herself. Chloe can’t tell what Rachel is thinking- she’s never been able to tell what she’s thinking- but she almost sounds  _ disappointed _ . Of course. It makes sense. No one as cool as Rachel Amber would want to be friends with Chloe Price. 

Rachel crosses her arms, takes a few steps closer to Chloe, and looks at her in the light of the setting sun. The bruise on Chloe’s face is just barely starting to fade.

“It is something special.” Rachel finally says, almost to herself. 

“Yeah.” Chloe agrees, so releived that maybe for once she didn’t fuck everything up. 

“I, uh, I hate to ask this after I just exploded on you,” Rachel clears her throat, tears welling in her eyes, “but can you walk me home?”

////

They grab their backpacks from school then head back to Rachel’s house. For the millionth time, Chloe asks Rachel if she’s  _ sure _ that she wants to go home. Honestly, Rachel tells her, she’s not sure. But she doesn’t want them to think that something is up. She wants to play it as cool as possible. Chloe respects Rachel’s choice even if it’s not one she would have chosen herself. 

“Text or call me if you need  _ anything _ , okay?” Chloe tells Rachel as they bid goodbye.

“Thank you, Chloe. For everything.”

Chloe nods, watches Rachel walk into her house, then leaves.

////

They’re at a party. Or, they were, at least. Chloe’s not sure they technically still were. After Rachel’s third straight hour of staring into her can of beer and Chloe’s third straight hour of drinking enough for the both of them, they made their way out of the house and down the street. It was quiet, save for the crunch of gravel underneath their sneakers. 

Rachel is uncharacteristically quiet. Chloe is humming under her breath. 

“I can’t confront him about this alone. Will you… will you go with me?” 

This sobers Choe up immediately.

“Of course.”

It breaks Chloe’s heart, seeing Rachel so scared.

////

Confronting James honestly goes better than Chloe thought it would. 

He seems pretty defeated already so it’s not hard to convince him that Rachel needs to hear the truth. 

And so he tells them everything. About how he met Sera, Sera’s drug use, how he couldn’t let Rachel be affected by that, the money he gave to Sera, all of it. 

Rachel, to her credit was extremely calm and composed throughout the whole ordeal. Only when James was finally done did Rachel get up and walk up the stairs, tears streaming down her face.

Without a second thought, Chloe goes after her.

////

It’s both strange and heartbreaking to see Rachel, curled up on her bed crying silent tears. Chloe has no idea what to do. How the hell do you comfort someone who’s entire world fell apart? When her own dad died what did she want most?

_ Max _ , her mind answers but she shoves that thought away.

Chloe didn’t want to feel alone; she wanted to feel that others cared. 

On Rachel’s dresser, she notices a small half-dome thing. When she picks it up she realizes its a mini constellation projector. She tries turning it on but the battery is dead. 

Rachel loves the stars. It’d be a shame if Chloe couldn’t make them shine for her. 

Luckily, Chloe found a large flashlight in an emergency preparedness kit that Rachel has in the corner of her room. After a little bit of finesse and duct tape, she manages to fix the half-dome thing to the flashlight. 

She manages to make the stars shine in Rachel’s room. 

It doesn’t fix everything. In fact, it probably fixes nothing. But, for just a second, Rachel wasn’t thinking about her dad or her mom or the fact that her world just collapsed around her. For just a second, it was just Rachel, Chloe, and the stars. 

_ (“Who cares if the stars are dead? As long as we can still see them, that means they’re real, to us.”) _

////

It’s no surprise that Rachel wants to meet with Sera. 

The two girls spend days sleuthing around James’ office, his computer, and anywhere else they can think of that might turn up leads. 

After nearly three days of dedicated searching they find what they’re looking for: a box of letters addressed to Rachel, stretching back years, the most recent one sent less than a week before they saw James on the overlook. 

There’s a return address on the letter. 

Chloe doesn’t have a license but she drives Rachel there anyway.

////

It’s an unusually warm Tuesday morning when they meet with Sera. 

Chloe is there largely for moral support. She sits awkwardly in one of the cheap motel chairs while Rachel and Sera talk in the next room. They’re there for hours, Chloe catching bits of their conversation but trying to give them as much privacy as the small space will allow.

What startles Chloe out of rereading the latest issue of  _ The Arcadia Inquirer _ for the fifth time is raised voices. Rachel says “Why won’t you stay? Why come into my life only to leave again?”

Her and Sera both watch as Rachel leaves. She’s not stomping out like a child but it’s clear she wants to. Instead, she restrains herself and walks out of the door with a certain grace. Sera doesn’t move. Doesn’t even  _ try _ to say anything to stop Rachel. 

The door closes and Chloe stood up to leave, too. 

“So that’s it, huh? You’re just gonna come in here, change Rachel’s life, and then just fucking leave again?” Chloe could  _ not _ believe the audacity of this woman. “I mean, why come back at all if you’re just gonna fucking abandon her again?”

“I’m not abandoning her.” Sera protests. “I- she just deserves  _ better _ than me. James, Rose, you… all of you can give her a much better life that I could have. And you _ are _ .”

Chloe’s throat is dry. “You got better for her.” Is all she can say.

“I did.” Sera agrees. “I’ve gotten sober before. Multiple times. It doesn’t stick. I don’t want Rachel around for when shit goes south and I relapse again.” She twirls an unlit cigarette between her fingers.

Chloe gets up quickly, causing the chair to scrape loudly against the wooden floors of the motel. Her hands were balled into fists.Sera remains unfairly calm which only serves to make Chloe angrier. “Try fucking harder, maybe? Isn’t Rachel worth fucking  _ trying _ for?” 

Sera’s jaw twitches. She stops twirling the cigarette. “Listen to me,” Sera’s eyes have an unmatched intensity, “Nothing,  _ nothing _ is more important to me than Rachel. Which is why I have to keep my distance. The only things she’d get from me are pain and misery. Do you understand?”

Honestly? Chloe  _ doesn’t _ understand. How the  _ hell _ could you have someone so amazing in your life just to piss it away? And for what? A high? A momentary escape.

Fuck.

_ Fuck. _

Chloe nearly smacks herself in the head because that is  _ exactly  _ what is happening between her and Max. All these parties Chloe is going to… she’s just chasing a high. Just like Sera was. 

“Yeah, I understand.” Chloe finally replies. Because, she realizes, she  _ does _ . And that scares her more than anything. 

“Can you promise me something?” Sera asks when Chloe’s hand is on the knob. Chloe turns around. 

“Promise me you’ll watch out for her the best you can?” 

In that moment, Chloe wants to say something mean. Something scathing. Because Sera has caused Rachel so much hurt that Chloe wants to return the favor. 

But then that moment passes and Chloe sees Sera as she really is: someone who is really sad and really lonely and someone who is too afraid to do better. 

“I promise.” Chloe says instead. The promise is pretty empty, as promises go, because Sera and Chloe are strangers and they always will be. 

Sera nods. Chloe doesn’t look back as she leaves the room. 

////

Rachel needed alone time. 

So did Chloe. 

She went to the Lighthouse. It looked pretty this time of day, with the setting sun lighting the water with a gentle orange glow. Despite the beauty in front of her Chloe can’t get the ugliness of earlier today out of her head. How Rachel got her mom back only to lose her again. Or, more accurately, have her own mom tell her to get lost.

_ After all we went through to find her. _ Chloe thinks to herself.  _ After all that, it was all for nothing _ .

Maybe not nothing. Because Chloe couldn’t get the similarities between her and Sera out of her head, either. The partying, the drugs, the need to forget all of life’s pains. How much longer until alcohol and weed weren’t enough for Chloe? How long until she went after the heavier stuff? How long until she stopped caring about school? About anything other than feeling better instead of actually  _ getting  _ better?

(The thought that she could care about getting high more than Max makes Chloe absolutely sick to her stomach)

(Chloe is done being afraid the way that Sera is)

_____

Max is worried about Chloe. 

They usually text each other multiple times a day. Call each other almost every night. 

Chloe hasn’t called her back in nearly four days. 

Before Max can stop herself, her mind is spinning all kinds of terrible scenarios. Chloe run over by a train, Chloe lying in a hospital because of alcohol poisoning, Chloe getting caught in a fire. Different scenarios but Chloe still ending up in some kind of danger. Granted, Chloe knows that none of these scenarios have happened. If something really bad had actually happened, then Joyce would have called her to fill her in. 

Still. That doesn’t mean Max will stop worrying.

////

Chloe calls Max for the first time in five days. The ring of her phone roused Max from a restless sleep and she hits the ‘answer’ button faster than she’s ever done anything in her life. 

“Jesus, Chloe, are you okay? What happened?” 

_ “I’m fine.” _ Chloe takes a deep breath.  _ “Well... not exactly. It’s just- some shit is going down with Rachel and her family. A whole shit storm of shit. I’ve been helping her deal with it as best I can. Which is why I haven’t really talked to you these last few days. I’m sorry.” _

Max’s mind is racing. “But you’re okay? You and Rachel?”

_ “Rachel- she’s getting there I think. It’s just been tough. And it will continue to be tough. Probably for the next few weeks while we sort it out. So, u, I guess I called just to warn you that I probably won’t be able to talk for a bit.” _

This does nothing to answer any of her questions, but Chloe sounds so worn out and so tired that Max doesn’t press. 

“Okay. Thank you. For the update. I- I, uh hope everything works out.”

_ “Me too. Bye Max.” _

////

They text, intermittently, for the next week and a half. Chloe has managed to fill Max in on some of the details but she’s still being frustratingly vague. All Max really knows is that it has something to do with Rachel’s mom not being her actual mom and how Rachel and Chloe are trying to find her real mom. 

Almost two weeks later, Chloe calls her at three pm on a Tuesday afternoon. 

And she tells Max everything that happened the last two weeks. About Rachel and her mom and her real mom. About James keeping the truth from her. About how the met up with Sera.

_ “I just don’t want to end up like her.” _ Chloe sounds the most scared that Max has ever heard her.

“You won’t.” Max says immediately.

_ “How do you know that?”  _

“Because, Chloe. You’re a good person. You- you  _ care _ . Enough to not let something like that ruin you.”

_ “But I let it ruin our friendship, Max. I- I pushed you away. With the drinking and the drugs… I pushed you away just like Sera pushed her own family away. _ ”

“You did. Max replied because Chloe needs for her to be  _ honest _ right now, not sugar coat everything. “But you did something Sera didn’t.”

_ “What’s that?” _

“You realized you needed to change before it was too late.”

Chloe is smiling; Max can hear it in her voice.  _ “What did I ever do to deserve you?” _

“Goop.”


	10. chapter nine: won’t you help me sober up (growing up it made me numb)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aka: chloe finally starts to get off her bullshit and get better; both for herself and for max

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from 'sober up' by ajr

Joyce isn’t stupid. 

Once a upon a time she was studying to become a teacher. Then a truck ran a red light and ruined all their lives, in more ways than one. 

Chloe knows her mom is smart. Brilliant, even if she was just given a chance. 

Joyce, outside of Max and Rachel, knows Chloe better than anyone else. Not even Steph and Mikey know Chloe the way Joyce does. 

So it’s safe to say Joyce knows something is going on with Chloe. It’s not hard to piece together. Afternoons usually filled with laughter and sucking up all of the house’s crappy wi-fi have been replaced by skulking and Joyce actually being able to stream Netflix. 

Chloe hasn’t gone to a party since the events she dubs ‘The Shitnado’ happened. IE: her fight with Max, the hell storm that went down with Rachel and Sera, and her own monumental realizations. Every time she even  _ thinks _ about going to a party or having a drink her stomach twists painfully and she thinks of the dark circles under Sera’s eyes; how the woman’s bones poked Chloe in all the wrong places when they shared a hug. 

She meant what she said to Max when she called Max, drunk on nothing but her own fears and drowning in feelings. Chloe really doesn’t want to end up the way Sera did. Even if the woman is better now and hopefully will stay that way- there was a nearly twenty year period where her life was just consistently pure  _ shit _ . Chloe doesn’t want that. At all. And she knows that that is exactly where her life is headed if she keeps going to parties, keeps doing drugs, keeps keeping on the way that she has. Sure. it was fun. A good way to dull all the pain she felt. But that’s all she was doing: keeping the pain at bay. Sooner or later it’s all going to come rushing out. Sooner or later her life was going to implode. 

“Something is bothering you.” Joyce tells Chloe while the girl stares into her cup of coffee. 

Chloe takes a long sip of her long cold drink just to avoid answering her mom. She didn’t even know where to start with this mess. So many lies have been told to her mom these last two year; so many secrets have been kept. Chloe’s not even sure she knows what the truth looks like anymore. 

“Something with you and Max.” Joyce prods. 

Joyce had clearly been reading parenting books on how to deal with these kinds of situations. The woman wasn’t usually one for digging deeper. That was something she always let William do. 

Choe just takes another, long drink.

“Probably something to do with all the partying you’ve been doing. Maybe even whatever happened with Rachel and you.”

That causes Chloe to choke because it’s just a little  _ too _ on the nose. 

“How do you-” Chloe swallows, trying to regain whatever composure she has left, “How do you know about that?”

“Oh, honey. I may be just a waitress but I’m not stupid, you know. I know when you sneak out, when you come home drunk. I don’t know the details but I know you and Max got into a fight. Why else would you not be talking to her every spare moment of the day? As for Rachel… well you were barely home these last few days. Every time I saw you, you were high tailing it somewhere with Rachel.” Joyce replies calmly. There’s worry in her voice yet no judgement. 

Chloe opens her mouth then clamps it shut. 

“I know you don’t want to talk to me about this. I know- I know I’m not the person you talk to about things. I just want you to know that if you ever do want to talk to me, you can. I love you, Chloe.”

“I want to.” Chloe says a little desperately. “Talk to you about this. I… I just don’t know how.”

Joyce nods slowly, sits down at the chair across from Chloe’s, and looks her in the eye. “How about you just start wherever you feel comfortable?”

She takes a deep breath. _ Okay _ , she thinks to herself, _ she can do this. _

“Um.. I guess it kind of all started when Justin invited me to a party last October…” 

Chloe tells her mom  _ everythin _ g. The parties, the drinking, meeting Rachel, more parties, the shit that went down with Rachel’s mom, the fight with Max, all Chloe’s fears about ending up like Sera. Everything. It felt good and bad all at once. Chloe felt like her skin had been rubbed raw by the time she was done. 

Joyce didn’t say anything the entire time Chloe spoke. She just nodded thoughtfully along to what was Chloe was saying. She never even chided her for drinking or smoking or sneaking out- like Chloe was expecting her too. She just… sat there and listened. 

“I’m so proud of you, Chloe.” Was the first thing out of Joyce’s mouth once Chloe had finished saying what needed to be said.

Chloe didn’t realize how much she was craving to hear those words until her mom spoke them.

“You are?” Even though Chloe wanted to hear it, she wasn’t sure she deserved her mom’s pride. 

“I am.” Joyce grabbed Chloe’s hand and for once Chloe didn’t flinch at the contact. “You’ve had to be so strong these last few years. I wasn’t there for you like I should have and for that I am so, so sorry. But you managed to see the wrong path you were going down. You’ve always been so fiercely independent,” Joyce gives a light chuckle, “so, independent. I- I suppose that’s part of the reason I left you alone. Some part of me figured that you didn’t need me. That you didn’t  _ want  _ me.” Joyce has tears running down her cheeks now and so does Chloe.

Chloe squeezes her mom’s hand. “I know I haven’t acted like it but I will  _ always  _ need you. You’re my mom.”

They stay like that for a while: holding their hands together and crying. 

For the first time in two years Chloe feels like she’s actually starting to  _ heal _ . 

////

Later, when she’s up in her room, she feels like her heart has been scrubbed with sandpaper. It feels like it’s raw and bleeding in her chest. 

She was laying on her bed, staring at the small collection of pictures taped to the wall, thinking about Max. They hadn’t talked since Chloe called her a few nights ago. It’s not that Chloe didn’t want to talk to her- she did- it’s just she really didn’t know how to proceed. 

Her fingers itch on the keypad of her phone typing out then deleting a text to send Max.  Instead, she pressed the call button. 

The phone rang twice before Max answered. 

_ “Hey Chloe. I was actually about to call you. Make sure you’re doing okay after everything.” _

“Really?” This shouldn’t surprise Chloe. Max always had a knack for calling Chloe when she needed it most.

_ “Yeah. What’s up?” _

“I, um, I talked to my mom this morning. About everything, basically.”

There was only one person who would understand the gravity of that statement and that person was Max. 

_ “What did she say?” _

“She said she was proud of me.” Saying it out loud got Chloe all choked up again. “We- we had a heart to heart actually. The first one… shit probably ever. It was… it was good. I- I feel good.”

_ “That’s great, Chloe _ . _ I’m proud of you too. I-”  _ Max cuts herself off and Chloe wonders what the girl was about to say.  _ “I’m just really proud of you. I’m so happy you’re doing better.” _

“You getting soft on me?” Chloe teases. 

_ “Funny, I was about to ask the same about you.” _

They laugh and Chloe feels the lightest she’s felt in months.

////

Once the phone call ended, Chloe sat up in her bed. She rearranged her room a few months ago so she was still getting used to the new layout. How her bed now faced the door instead of her closet. It was a strange change in perspective. 

Despite having rearranged everything the clutter of her room was still very much present. Beer bottles, soda cans, dirty clothes, old scraps of homework, and pretty much anything else you’d imagine in a teenager’s room filled the space with mess. A  _ lot _ of mess. Now, Chloe has never been the neatest person. In fact, she’s always been quite messy. But her room was getting to a point where it was kind of ridiculous.

Maybe cleaning out her room would be good for her. 

So that’s what she did. She got a trash bag from downstairs and threw away all her trash, then she put all her dirty clothes in the laundry (there was probably several articles she could donate but she decided to do that a different day), after her laundry was sorted she began organizing her room section by section. First, and probably most daunting, was her old desk that now served as a storage space and the adjacent shelves. Both were overflowing with years of accumulated crap. 

Crap that Chloe, admittedly, did not want to part with. She ended up keeping most of it (save for a few old notebooks that were covered in water stains and some very old candy that was tucked into the bottom of a drawer). What she kept she organized. Instead of books and things being haphazardly piled into wherever there was room Chloe carefully removed all the objects and placed them back in an orderly fashion. 

This pattern was followed for the rest of her room. It took several hours but she finally got her entire room done. It was definitely nice having everything relatively clean and organized. Knowing her, though, it would get messy enough in a week or two. But for now it was clean. And for now, she felt pretty good. 

Chloe texted a picture of her clean room to Max, who sent back a selfie of herself looking shocked. Chloe laughed and sent back a selfie of her smirking. 

////

One of the Vortex Club kids invites Chloe to a party. Well, he technically invites Rachel but everyone knows by now if you invite Rachel Chloe is tagging along too. 

“Are you going?” Rachel asks and it sounds more like a challenge than a question.

Chloe chews her lip. Her hesitancy is answer enough for Rachel. 

“Why not?”

“I-”  _ I don’t want to end up like Sera _ , Chloe wants to say but that sounds way too harsh. Especially given it’s been less than seventy two hours since they saw Sera for the first and last time. “I have a lot of homework to catch up on.” It’s not a lie- she and Rachel promised to never lie to each other- but it’s also not the full answer either. 

“Whatever,” if Rachel was blowing bubblegum she would have blown out a bubble then popped it, “more booze for me.” Then she’s striding down the hallway with that famous Rachel Amber nonchalance. 

////

Chloe is actually doing homework on a friday night. And not all rushed through so she can make it in time for a party. But, like really really taking her time to get the answers right. To understand both the question and the answer. She even goes to bed early. Well, early for her on a Friday night. 

That is, until she’s woken up by her phone ringing loudly. Which is concerning because no one ever calls her at three am on a friday night (saturday morning?) 

Rachel’s name flashes on her screen and Chloe’s heart drops to her stomach.

“Hello?” Chloe answers as she bolts up. She’s already shuffling around her room, ripping off her pajamas and throwing on a pair of jeans and a hoodie. 

_ “Um, hi. Is this Chloe Price?” _ An unfamiliar guy asks.

“Who the fuck are you and why do you have Rachel’s phone?” Chloe snaps.

_ “Whoa, relax. This is Hayden. From drama club. And Vortex Club.” _ He sounds smug, like those accomplishments are supposed to mean anything to Chloe.  _ “Anyway I’m at the party with Rachel and she’s wasted. Like really, really wasted. The party is pretty much over and she keeps asking for you to pick her up. She seems really distraught and I didn’t know what to do so I called you.” _

“Text me the address. Tell her I’ll be there soon.”

////

Chloe wanted to go one full week without going to a party.  _ Just one week _ she had begged the universe. That did not seem to be in the universe’s plans at all. Because here she was, standing in front of some rich kid’s trashed house, to pick up Rachel.

In hindsight it probably wasn’t the best idea to let Rachel near such an alarming amount of booze after the week they just had. Good decisions have never really been Chloe’s forte. 

A guy she vaguely recognizes is sitting next to Rachel on a couch in one of the fancier living rooms Chloe has seen in her sixteen years of life. He’s rubbing circles on a crying Rache’s back. 

“Chloe?” He asks. 

“Hayden?” She returns.

“Yeah, that’s me. Thanks for coming to get her. I- I didn’t think calling her parents would be a good idea.”

“Probably not.”

Word travels fast at Blackwell. Though no one knows the true details of what happened the school does know that the two of them nearly got suspended for ditching class, that Rachel accused her dad of cheating on her mom, and that something involving Rachel’s mom went down. No one knows the full story. Rachel seems intent on keeping it that way.

Chloe is grateful that Hayden doesn’t ask many questions. 

“What happened to her?”

“She partied pretty hard. Harder than I’ve ever seen her at least. I, um, I don’t think she took any drugs. Just a shit ton of alcohol.”

Chloe nods and scans the room for any belongings Rachel may have left behind. When she sees nothing she gives a curt nod to Hayden then helps Rachel off the couch and their off into the night.

Rachel’s walk is more of a half stumble so she ends up clinging to Chloe for support. 

Neither of them say anything as they walk to Chloe’s house. Chloe figures Rachel doesn’t want to go home. 

Rachel is uncharacteristically quiet. Usually when she’s drunk she’s all giggles and energy- like that night after the play, right before everything went to shit. Right now… right now she’s the complete opposite of that. She’s quiet, contemplative, sad. 

It breaks Chloe’s heart. 

////

They finally get back to Chloe’s house and into Chloe’s room. Chloe helps Rachel into some pajamas, gives her a glass of water, and tucks her into bed before climbing in with her. They’ve shared a bed enough times that it’s not a big deal anymore. 

Rachel is still awake and so is Chloe. They’re staring at the glow in the dark stars Chloe stuck to her ceiling a year ago- just like the ones Max had in her old room- and not saying anything to each other. 

Chloe doesn’t have to ask what Rachel was thinking, going to that party and drinking far too much. It’s exactly what Chloe herself has been doing for over a year: trying to forget all the pain life has left her with. 

“Why do people lie?” Rachel asks so suddenly it makes Chloe jump. Her voice is more vulnerable than Chloe has ever heard it and it makes her heart break all over again.

“Because they’re scared.” Chloe replies because it’s a question she’s been pondering a lot herself.

Rachel turns her head so she’s facing Chloe. They can’t see each other in the darkness. “Are you scared?” There’s none of the usual challenge in Rachel’s voice; none of the cockiness. Just a scared little girl whose world broke around her feet.

“I’m trying not to be.” 

This answer seems to satisfy Rachel because she falls asleep a few minutes later.

////

They’re still friends, after that. It feels like they’ve been through too much to  _ not _ be friends. But something definitely shifts between them. 

Rachel continues to go to parties. Continues to drink and smoke and do drugs much like she did before. Chloe doesn’t go as often. And when she does go she gets buzzed, maybe tipsy. She still smokes, but she’s limited herself to cigarettes only. Besides, pot is too expensive anyway. 

They also don’t talk as much as they used too. Or as deeply. It kind of hurts if Chloe is being honest with herself. They’re still friends. They just aren’t as close anymore.

////

While her relationship with Rachel gets slightly more distant her relationship with Max becomes exceptionally more close. 

Ever since Chloe called her after the Shitnado, something shifted with her and Max’ relationship. 

Chloe hasn’t been able to put her finger on it. But something has definitely changed. 

Unlike with Rachel, the change between her and Max is definitely something good. 

_____

Something happens between Rachel and Chloe, after the whole Sera debacle. Chloe doesn’t say anything to Max about whatever went on between her and Rachel but Max isn’t stupid. After the whole thing with Sera, there’s no more group skype calls with Rachel, Chloe hardly ever talks about Rachel. The two were so close but now they’re not. It was strange. 

Though, Max wasn’t going to lie, it was nice having Chloe back. The  _ old _ Chloe. Well, not old exactly- more like new and improved. Max had long since accepted that Chloe wouldn’t be the same person she was before her dad died. That was part of growing up, after all. Max wasn’t the same person she was before William died, either. Still, Max hadn’t liked the person that Chloe was morphing into. The party girl, the punk rocker, the …  _ delinquent _ . If Chloe had gone any farther down that path… Max doesn’t even want to  _ think _ about what Chloe might have become. 

A part of Max couldn’t help but feel that what was happening to Chloe was partially her fault. Max just kept quiet when Chloe was drinking her life away. She felt like it wasn’t her business to intervene, she believed Chloe when she said that she had her drinking under control, and that telling Chloe how she felt about the whole situation would just make it all worse. 

Maybe if Max  _ had _ said something then Chloe wouldn’t have gotten so fucked up.

No use torturing herself about it now. 

What’s important is that Chloe is getting better. 

////

“Okay, okay, I’m ready. You ready?” Max shifted in her bed, laptop perched in her lap. Half the screen was open to  _ The Blade Runner _ the other was open to her Skype call with Chloe. 

Chloe shoveled a handful of popcorn on her mouth.  _ “Yeah. On three?” _

“One,” Max’s finger hovered over the keypad. 

_ “Two.”  _

“Three!” They both said at the same time. 

They started the movie. Truth be told, Max spent a lot more time watching Chloe’s reactions . No matter how many times Chloe watched this movie she always reacted like it was the first time. It was really adorable. 

////

Max is lying in her bed, listening to music, when the realization hit her like a ton of bricks. 

_ I’m in love with Chloe _ .

She sits straight up, heart hammering in her chest, throat feeling like it’s going to close up.

_ Shit _ . 

In a way, this realization is both terrifying and relieving. Terrifying because,  _ hello _ , being in love with your best friend is a recipe for disaster. But also relieving since at least now she has an answer to why she thought of Chloe whenever she listened to a love song on the radio, or why she spent their movie nights watching Chloe and not the movie and-

_ Fuck _ . 

This was all right in front of her face the entire time, wasn’t it? 

////

Day Seven of Max realizing she’s in love with her best friend.

She would have expected herself to ignore Chloe. Not answer her calls or texts, not read the letters Chloe sends, hell not even look at the photos of them in her room. 

If anything, Max does the complete opposite. She talks to Chloe  _ more _ than usual. And not all of it is awkward. Actually, most of it is pretty normal. 

It’s strange, how easily Max can continue on. 


	11. chapter ten: i watch the sun (even though i’ll never have her)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aka: star gazing, repressed feelings, and the idea that things are looking up after all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from 'i watch the sun' by alexa san roman

_ Chloe looks good _ .

This is Max’s first thought when she sees Chloe because, well, Chloe  _ does _ look good. 

It’s clear she’s been telling the truth: she hasn’t been partying as much. The bags under her eyes are almost non existent, she looks like she’s put on a little weight (probably helps that she’s not puking her guts up three times a week), and her eyes look clear and focused. 

When Max hugs her there’s a whiff of cigarette smoke lingering on her clothes, but Max doesn’t hold that against her. 

“Hey, nerd.” Chloe greets softly.

“Goop.” Max replies, earning a huff of a laugh. 

////

They drive up to the cabin with holiday music playing in the background. Chloe tells Max about her classes, the projects she’s been up to, about how she’s working at the Two Whales to save up money to fix up the truck in the junkyard. In return, Max tells Chloe about some of the photos she’s taken, the homework she’s procrastinated on, the long walks she’s gone on.

Max tries not to let her gaze linger on her friend’s lips, tries not to brush her hand with Chloe’s, tries not to blush when Chloe compliments her hair.

(Tries, tries, tries and fails, fails, fails)

////

The cabin looks different this time of year. The lush trees that surrounded it are nearly bare. Everything is covered with a thin layer of frost. All the outdoor furniture has been tucked away. There’s a tarp over the boat. 

Or, maybe it’s less about the way it looks and more about the fact that this time around, Max and Chloe are different. 

They have grown and matured a lot since last summer. They have endured a lot. So, maybe the cabin looks the same but it’s actually them who look different. It’s a big philosophical question that Max really doesn’t have the brainpower to get into.

////

As soon as they’re alone in their room Chloe is fishing around in her backpack for something. From the depths of it she produces a vaguely rectangular shaped mass of wrapping paper. 

“I’m glad to see your wrapping skills are still as wonderful as ever.” Max says with a cheeky grin.

“Oh just shut up and open it already ,will ya?”

Max rolls her eyes and does as she’s told. 

Underneath the mass of wrapping paper is a beautiful leather bound journal. It looks like something that some great poet from like the 1800’s would write in. 

“Open it.” Chloe says softly yet sheepishly. 

It’s all Max can do to oblige. 

Inside, on the first page, is Chloe’s neat-yet-messy writing. A whole page filled with words. This alone nearly takes Max’s breath away. Chloe isn’t one to really express her emotions- especially in writing- and Max can tell by the extreme care that went into this gift that it is full of heart. 

Max holds her breath as she reads the note and Chloe holds hers too. Neither of them say anything. 

Tears sting Max’s eyes as she closed the distance between them and wraps Chloe in a tight hug. 

“Thank you.” Max whispers.

“Anytime.” Chloe hugs her back. “Anytime.”

////

Unlike summer, they spend a majority of their time inside. 

Particularly by the fireplace. They play board games, read books, and even do homework. With anyone else it would have all been so boring. But with Chloe, Max doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

This time around Max spends a  _ lot _ more time being aware of just how  _ much _ she looks at Chloe. The amount of glances she steals at the girl is kind of ridiculous. Then again, Chloe is, like, ridiculously beautiful so she can’t really find it in herself to care. 

(Chloe still insists on finding Bigfoot, though, so it’s nice to know that not everything has changed)

////

The Caulfield’s are committed to decorating for Christmas. Or, at least Max’s mom is. She managed to find room in the car to pack a small, fake tree and a box of decorations. Max would never admit it but the decorations to help to spruce the place up. They help everyone get into the holiday spirit.

That and the obscene amounts of hot cocoa her dad makes. 

Most of their time is like a scene from a cheesy holiday movie: sitting by the fireplace, wearing comfy sweaters and fluffy socks, and reading books while drinking hot coco. 

Max wouldn’t trade it for the world. 

////

New Year’s Eve comes too quick for Max’s liking. The day after tomorrow they were going to have to go back to their regular lives. Which also meant that Max would have to say goodbye to Chloe, until at least spring break. 

Last year on New Year’s Eve, Max and Chloe watched the fireworks from Max’s backyard and ignored the drunken cheers of Max’s parents and their friends just a few feet away. 

This year, Max and Chloe ring in New Years by watching the ball drop on TV in a cozy little cabin in the middle of nowhere. 

Ryan and Vannessa share a kiss- something between a peck and a makeout session- and Max tries not to feel jealousy burn within her. Because they got to be with the person they love. And Max did too, just not in the way she wanted too. Chloe was so close yet so far and she wasn’t sure how to proceed. Doing so would no doubt ruin their friendship and Max could not stand the idea of ruining what she has with Chloe. Sometimes, it feels like it’s all she has. 

So a few days later they say their goodbyes and Max tells her journal what she wishes she could tell Chloe instead.

_____

Chloe isn’t going to lie. 

She’s hella nervous giving her gift to Max. 

More nervous than she was about the gift last year. 

But she’s already digging in her backpack so it’s too late to back out now.

She manages to hide the nervous tremble in her hands as she gives Max the gift. 

As Max is reading it, Chloe reads along too. She’s reread what she wrote a thousand times she’s basically memorized the whole thing by now. More than once she seriously considered ripping out the page and starting over. In the end, she kept it. Something in her just couldn’t bear to get rid of those words. 

_ Dear Max,  _

_ I’ve written out this letter a thousand times. Or at least it feels like a thousand. Every single time I couldn’t get the words quite right. So I decided what the hell, you know? I’ve never been good at planning things out so I might as well just go for it.  _

_ So this is me. Going for it. _

_ I… I just wanted to say thank you. For everything.  _

_ These last two years have been pretty terrible. And not just for me, but for you too. William, well he was like your dad too. Losing him sucked hard for the both of us. Then you having to start over in a completely new city in a completely new state? I can’t even begin to imagine the courage that must have taken. _

_ Yes, courage.  _

_ I know that’s not a word you use to describe yourself. But you are. You’re the bravest person I know. And the strongest. And the kindest.  _

_ I know you don’t really believe these things about yourself which is why I’m saying them now. And this way you can go back and reread them whenever you need to hear them. _

_ Thank you for putting up with all my bullshit these last few years, and thank you for helping me to be better.  _

_ Love,  _

_ Chloe.  _

Out of all the things she wrote in that note those last two words gave her the greatest hesitation. As she was writing the words poured out of her pen. That is, until she finally got to the end. Love Chloe. It’s a simple sign off. One she’s done before with Max.

This time… this time felt different somehow. Those words felt heavier for some reason. 

In all honesty the way she loved Max wasn’t the same way she loved Rachel or Steph or Mikey. It felt… deeper. Almost sacred.

Oh. 

Oh shit. 

The thought clicked in her head about the same time that Max wrapped her in a hug. 

(If Chloe wasn’t too busy making massive realizations she would have laughed at the irony)

She, Chloe Price, was in love with Max Caulfield. 

_ … shit _ .

////

They’re looking at the stars. Something about wintertime makes the stars look so much prettier. 

Winter makes everything prettier. Even Max, which Chloe didn’t think it was possible for Max to look prettier yet the girl somehow managed the feat. Chloe dares not look at Max for that exact reason. If she does, she thinks she would lose all her self control and kiss Max right then and there.

Resisting the urge to kiss Max became harder and harder with each passing day. 

_ Fuck _ , she was a mess. 

Instead of kissing Max she settles for fiddling with the bracelet that Max gave her. It’s a poor substitute.

////

New Year’s Eve comes way too quick.

The four of them are watching the ball drop while sipping at their solo cups of champagne. Well, Vanessa and Ryan are drinking champagne. Chloe and Max both decided to stick with apple cider this year. 

It’s warm in the cabin. Almost too warm to justify the sweater Chloe is wearing. Though, her warmth probably has less to do with the temperature and more to do with the fact that Max is less than a foot away from her, counting down the seconds to the new year.

_ 5. _

Max smells like coconut and vanilla.

_ 4 _ . 

Her breath is warm. Chloe wonders if Max’s lips are soft.

_ 3 _ .

One time Chloe read an article about spontaneous human combustion. With Max so close and so warm, Chloe doesn’t doubt that it’s impossible.

_ 2. _

Man, all Chloe would have to turn her head and lean in a little...

_ 1. _

Chloe wishes she was braver.

Everyone erupts in cheers, Max pops one of those little confetti cannons, and Ryan and Vanessa share a kiss. 

Chloe tries not to be jealous of them. 


	12. epilogue: and then she kissed me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aka: the ending is the beginning; or something like that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from 'and then she kissed me', a cover by st.vincet

Typically, Saturday mornings meant sleeping in, eating a breakfast of sugary cereal, and ignoring any homework she might have for the weekend. 

This was not a typical Saturday morning. 

Because this particular morning she was woken up not by the (very late) alarm she set on her phone but rather by someone knocking incessantly at the door. For a while she just ignored it. However, it was clear that whoever was on the other side was  _ not _ going away. So Max dragged herself out of bed, made her way down the stairs and swung open the front door. 

Out of all the people she was expecting, Chloe wasn’t one of them. 

“Chloe?” Max said stupidly because she was at least seventy percent sure she was dreaming. “I thought you weren’t coming for another two weeks. Is everything alright?”

“I love you.”

Nothing could have woken Max up faster than those three words. Not even a bucket of cold water being dumped on her head.

“What?” Max said, because obviously she was a poet.

(Ninety percent.

Max was now ninety percent sure this was a dream)

(Actually, she has had this dream before: Chloe telling Max she loved her. Or the other way around. Thought it never involved Max’s stupid duck pajamas or a surprise visit to her house. Usually they involved the lighthouse, or the swingset in Chloe’s backyard, or Chloe’s room)

Chloe launches into this big monologue about how she’s always loved Max and being afraid of change and some other stuff that Max honestly didn’t catch because she was too busy trying not to laugh at how unfairly  _ cute _ Chloe was being. 

So she tenderly grabbed Chloe’s wrists. Moreso out of a need to prove to herself that this was  _ real _ than anything else. “Slow down.” Max wasn’t sure if she was telling this to Chloe or her own thoughts.

Chloe stopped her monologue; sucked in a breath. She looked into Max’s eyes and Max looked into hers. 

There is so much  _ love _ there Max is surprised she missed it all those times before. As a photographer, she thought she saw everything- especially things others didn’t. But she had somehow managed to miss the look of pure adoration that Chloe had in her eyes. Like Max hung the stars in the sky or put the light in the sun. 

Then Max says the only thing that really matters:

“I love you too.” 

////

Later that day, when Chloe leaves, Max watches Chloe’s truck disappear down the horizon. Max can still feel the feathery lightness of Chloe’s lips against her own. 

They’ll have to figure out how to navigate this new level of their relationship. How to progress from here. But for now, they were just two girls in love. And  _ that _ will always be enough. 

Chloe and her truck have long since left Max’s view. One thought enters her mind as Max finally goes inside her house as dusk turned to twilight: 

Life has a strange way of working out. 


End file.
